Spiraling
by Narukashi666
Summary: It started out fine, y'know... but of course, everything gets worse eventually. (Kotetsu 1st person, UA (universe alterations))
1. Chapter 1

"HEY! Why won't you LISTEN to me?!" I shouted, resisting the impulse to stomp my foot. "I'm trying to tell you something impor—"

"Shut up, old man," Blue Rose snapped, "Nobody wants to hear it!"

"But—"

"Why must you always act like a child?" Fire Emblem sighed, shaking his head.

"Because I—"

"Go away, Kotetsu," Antonio rumbled.

I opened my mouth to say more, but everybody was already ignoring me. They were all turning away, dismissing me, acting like I didn't exist. They do this every time I try to speak. It's like I don't matter.

I glared at them all, but decided that it wasn't THAT important. It's just a broken rib, anyway. And it's not like anyone would care if I couldn't work for a few days. I'm invisible. I'm worse than Cyclone. HE at least is quiet.

I knew I shouldn't be upset. This is normal, after all. But it makes me angry when they dismiss me like that, and it makes me angry when they tell me I'm acting like a child. Sometimes I do (act like a child, that is), but most of the time they're just ignoring me and won't actually listen to me. Why do they do that? I'm not THAT bad, am I?

I thought of the letter of resignation at home, taped to the fridge so I'd see it when I went for a beer. There's time… I could just run back home and turn it in… There's nothing wrong with giving up.

Yes there is.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead on the cool tiling on the wall in the farthest left-hand bathroom stall, in the men's locker room. This is where I go when I can't deal with them anymore. I've been coming here more and more, lately. Cold clears my head, most of the time. And it's quiet. Nobody comes here. Well, not until someone has to change. But mostly it's quiet. It's… it's nice.

My cellphone buzzed. I sighed and took it out my pocket, not removing my forehead from the wall. I'm always tired after I get angry. I saw the number and name and smiled a little before answering.

"Hello, kid."

"_Hello, old man," _the person on the other end said. I've never met this guy, but for some reason, he keeps calling me. He told me the first time that my number used to be the one to his mother and father's home phone. I told him that that's too bad, but I needed to get back to work. Somehow, he made me have a conversation with him, and now he calls me regularly. It's… kind of creepy. Which is why his caller ID is 'Creeper'.

"What's up?"

"_Do you have some time?"_

"Yeah, sure." I turned and leaned back on the wall, crossing my arms as well as I could manage with a phone to my ear. "Do you need somebody to whine to again?"

"_Sort of," _he said, sounding apologetic. _"I… well, I need your advice. I was hoping you could help me."_

"Uh. I'm not very good at giving advice, but I'll give it a try. What do you need help with?"

"_Women."_

"Oh, well, I'm DEFINITELY not good at giving advice on that subject," I said vehemently. "Give me anything but women."

"_That's my line. But I really do need help. You see, I have a friend from school who is rather, er, attached… and it's becoming a bit of a hindrance. How do I tell her I'm not interested?" _He sounded desperate and confused, and I couldn't help a small smile.

"Yelling at her to leave you alone won't work, ne? No. Has she expressly said that she likes you?"

"_Back in highschool, she did, but then she told me that she realized being friends was better. And now she's getting flirtatious again. I don't want to hurt or humiliate her, but it's been getting worse, and her boyfriend is beginning to be concerned, as well. How do I explain to her?"_

"I suggest telling her that there's something called personal space, and you'd appreciate it if she'd stay out of yours."

He laughed. _"Forward as always. I like the way you talk. Do you act the same way?"_

"I'm told so," I confirmed, feeling a little smug. At least SOMEONE liked me. "Strange, you're the only person with sense around here."

"_Really?" _The pause seemed pensive. _"Why is that?"_

I blinked. "Uh, well. Just… it was a joke," I muttered, apologetically. "A really bad joke. That's all. I'm sorry, I'm just not really, y'know, not really HERE. I took a shit ton of painkillers earlier. I'm a little out of it."

"_No, that's alright. Did you get yourself half-killed again?"_

"Er." I glanced down at my torso, wincing. "No, it's just a broken rib. It'll mend. Nobody around here seems to care much," I muttered before I could stop myself. "I know it's just that they all hate me, but still, at least have the sense to hear me out so there's a reason to gloat and scold. They jump on every opportunity they get, you'd think they'd like anoth—" I cut myself off, feeling a sudden tide of anxiety and guilt. "Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to complain. About the girl—"

"_She can wait. What do you mean, they all hate you?"_

He sounded disbelieving, bewildered, demanding and angry, all at the same time. I would have been flattered if he hadn't been questioning something as old as time and as deeply rooted as the World Tree. They hate me. They wish I'd disappear. Isn't that what they'd all said, time and again? I, myself, was bewildered and angry at his refusal to accept that.

"They hate me. That's all. I'm older than most of them, and I'm not as good at my job, and I'm more of an asshole to them than to you." I thought about for a second, then said, almost but not really surprised, "I think you're the only person besides my ma who's ever actually LISTENED to me since I moved to Sternbild permanently. Maybe that's why I like you."

The door to the stall suddenly ripped open, and I yelped, trying to keep hold of my phone, jump away from the surprise, and not fall into the toilet.

"Like who?" Antonio demanded, and it was the first time in several months that he had looked so livid. "Who're you talking to?"

"None of you business," I retorted, still a little shaken. "What was that for, anyway? Couldn't ya just knock, like a normal person?"

He suddenly snatched my phone away, and I only had time to yelp in protest before he spoke into it angrily; "Who is this?"

I couldn't hear what Creeper said, but Antonio reddened further with rage. I could see the veins in his temple start to throb, and his jaw tightened so hard it twitched. "That doesn't matter! Who are you, and why are you calling? …I asked first, so you answer first! Proper etiquette!"

"Since when do you care about etiquette?" I demanded, but subsided when he glared at me. I remember that glare. Once you've crossed knives with a two hundred forty-something pound pile of muscle at age fourteen, you learn not to mess with them. Especially not Antonio Lopez. Especially not when he's angry.

Slowly, the tension in his body ebbed away; the tension in the air around him got thicker. I sat on top of the toilet's water tank and leaned as far back against the wall as I could. If he went crazy in the doorway, I'd have to climb out over the partition into the next stall. I know the proper etiquette for THAT well enough.

Finally, his stance was simply annoyed, while his facial expression and the aura he projected were nothing but pure dislike. And… was that a possessive look in his eye? No, surely it couldn't be. Friends we may have been, but that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. We'd both agreed never to mention it, and gone our separate ways. Why dredge up a past that hurt so much more than the present?

Antonio grunted. "I don't care who you're related to, why you're calling him, or how you got his number. Just don't call him again. Got it?" After a second, supposedly during which Creeper promised to cut contact to me, he pushed the button and my phone beeped obediently, dropping the call. He handed it back to me, still full of disgust and dislike. "Don't call him ever again," he growled. "Don't even THINK about it."

"Why not?" I demanded, feeling the earlier anger start to throb in my skull again. "What's wrong with talking to someone?"

"Everything," he said simply, and left.

Oh, I was so tempted to just immediately call back… but Antonio has a way of impressing on you the importance of following his orders. I knew it'd have to be later, at home. But why was he so angry? It was just someone I was talking to regularly. Maybe it'd been the part about not listening to me. I scowled at the ripped door—they were going to blame me for this—and slid off the toilet. I hadn't said anything but the truth. It was obvious they hated me, and when I walked out of the locker room, three pairs of eyes locked on me with varying degrees of surprise and anger. The anger wasn't very much (in fact it was more like disgruntlement, or offence,) so that was safe. It was the surprise, and the way Sky High, Dragon Kid, and Fire Emblem all turned away rather hastily, as if caught staring at one of the adults in the parlor after they were supposed to be in bed. I frowned at the back of their heads, mystified, but shrugged and went off to the farthest corner of the room, hiding behind the exercise bikes.

(Everyone scoffs at them, since we all do so much running already, but they're still here. We just shove them off to one side, and it makes a handy little place for contemplation. It's a rule among us that if someone is in the contemplation area, you have to wait your turn. I usually try to be quick about it, but when it's Blue Rose or Fire Emblem's turn, they can spend hours moping. It gets old quickly.)

I sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as I thought for a bit. I dismissed the phone call incident after a couple of minutes as just some strange little tic that everyone had about me having private conversations, and ones that didn't devolve into arguments. I watched a spider cross the ceiling. Huh. Agnes was going to have a fit.

Mr. Maverick wouldn't. I smiled a little at that thought. Mr. Maverick was like everyone's favorite uncle, even if I did feel a little uneasy around him. When I was out of his presence, I scoffed at myself and focused on how he was nice to everyone, and never did more than suggest that you were being an idiot. I tried to group him in my head with Mr. Legend, but it didn't matter how hard I tried, he never measured up. There was always that small thing, in the back of my head…

Maybe he would know what was up. I felt a little uncomfortable, asking to talk to him by myself, but I could hardly confront the others, and their managers were just distant, floaty, ethereal things that didn't really exist, to my mind. Maybe I really SHOULD call Creeper again. He usually gave good advice when it came to dealing with social situations. I smiled to myself. He was VERY good at social situations. I'd started being a lot more polite, and everyone was still suspicious, but I wasn't having as many problems.

Well, not in public, at least.

My smile disappeared like a bird's shadow. Everything was still bumpy and sharp and not right, but it was even worse with my fellow heroes. Again, the resignation letter…

I glanced at the clock. My thirty minutes were up. I stood with a sigh and brushed the dust off of me, trudging sullenly out of the mass of equipment to settle in the second loneliest spot, by the giant window. Everyone ignored it because they were scared the media might set cameras, but I just didn't care. Nobody would recognize me. I don't have very many outside friends. I didn't have any inside friends, either.

The view is nice, but I like to stare out at everything and think about what it'd be like at home. Not home with ma and Muramasa; home with Tomoe, and Kaede. Both of them… my little girl and my center of the universe…

I couldn't smile when I thought about her. I mean, I could, but not in public. I could just imagine her, sitting here beside me, smiling calmly and laughing at some bad joke I'd made that she'd understood, because she understood me. And my baby—no, little girl, my little girl, well past babyhood. My little girl sitting with us, with her mother's arm around her, not yelling at me, not telling me how terrible I was, just laughing with us and being light with her berating. Why did we have to fall apart? Why did I have to leave her, let her go, lose my center…

I could feel her beside me, running her fingers through my hair. I wanted to apologize, but my throat was tight and my mouth was dry. Usually it's not this bad; usually I can smile on the inside. But not today… Today was a sad day. A broken rib, no one to talk to except someone I'd been forbidden, and everybody being mean.

God, I wanted a drink.

~~~\0/~~~

"WHAT THE HELL, TONY?!"

He stared at me coldly and dropped the crushed remains on my phone. "I told you not to talk to him."

"You're not my goddamn mother!" I snarled, stooping to pick up the pieces. I held tight to the barstool so I wouldn't topple over. "Why are you so pissed off? Are you going to tell me not to talk to my brother, too? Who said you get to tell me what to do?!"

"He's trouble," he growled, ignoring the group that was forming. "I can tell."

"How the hell do you know?"

"Why did you tell him that we all hate you?"

"Because you do!" I almost shouted. I can match him temper for temper, and I can go higher. One of the reasons we were rivals for so long, and are again. "None of you even bother to listen when I'm shouting in your face. Hell, Nate and the girls call me a dirty old man every time they see me. How the hell is that not hating me? And what does it matter who I talk to?"

"It matters because he's the one corrupting you, isn't he?" Antonio retorted. "You never were nice before this asshole. Something's wrong, and it's because of him."

"How is being nicer a corruption?!" I snarled, reigning myself in with an effort. Drink doesn't make me blurry; if anything, it gives me a fire that makes everything sharper. I used to drink before calls, but Tomoe threw a vase at me and I stopped. "And what d'you mean, I was "never nice"? I was plenty nice before you guys started being assholes!"

"I was under the impression you threw a fit because Nate tried to steal your underwear, and that's what started the downward trend," Antonio commented dryly.

I just stared at him, the rage rising. That was only a week after… they all knew and… for god's sake, how could anyone have thought to…

"Tomoe," was all I got out through a tight throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear him apart. But the look on his face made me want to make it quick and painful instead of slow and torturous. His face went white, and uncertainty replaced contempt. When I got my voice under control, somehow I hissed, "And you were the first to forget. You know that. You were the first to tell me to get over it. You. YOU told me to get over it. You, who had tried just as hard as me…"

"I…" I could see the shame actively pounding through every part of him. Then he drew himself together visibly. "That has nothing to do w-with the current situation," he said in a shaky voice that made it half a question. I wanted so badly to just kill him, gut him, offer him to the Mayan gods. But that was the cognac coursing through me. I knew that well, and that put a damper on my bloodlust.

"Doesn't it?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. "There's a reason I gave up. There's a reason I just threw it all out the fucking window. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown my attitude out the window," I mused, faking sobriety, "Maybe I should have thrown YOU. And the other fucking pustules who call themselves our coworkers. The bastards, the swine, the sons of bitches—I should have thrown YOU out the window!" I shouted, surprised at my volume and the way Antonio shivered and shrank away from me. The cognac must have affected me more than usual. The bloodlust surged, but I knew better than to give in. I held on to it with a will, but Antonio knew it couldn't hold, that was why he was searching for a way out, and I couldn't hold it anymore—

The crushed piece of technology in my clenched fist beeped feebly.

I let out a little gasp of surprise, the anger suddenly taking hold of me as my attention broke, and it's only because of Antonio's NEXT power that he survived my sudden barrage of attacks. He held his own, bruised me good, broke another rib; but there's a reason why I'm called "Wild Tiger", and he understands, if not exactly respects, that when I let go you better fucking get some reinforcements, or you'll end up a smear.

It took about seven other patrons to pull me off him, and he was angry too by this time, and it took four to hold him back. I vaguely noticed that all the bigger, heavier, stronger guys and gals were holding my arms and the back of my shirt, and one woman was shaking me and shouting in my face as I strained around her, shouting at Antonio, who was shouting at me, and then I ran out of insults in English and switched to a jumble of French, German, Danish, and Japanese. A lot of them sounded dirtier than their meanings, to an English-speaker, which made it better. Antonio, who is fluent in both South American and native Spanish, had reverted as well.

The woman shaking me suddenly put her hands over my ears, and I trailed off, surprised how not being able to hear made everything calm down. I was still boiling, ready to kill, but there was suddenly a lessening of everything, and I suddenly burst into tears.

This was probably much scarier than the thought of my murdering one of my own "friends". No one expects a would-be murderer to suddenly start bawling, but god, when you can't get your fists at the problem, the frustration finds other outlets. I was still muttering insults and cursing everything in the world, but crying takes a lot of energy and air, so I couldn't be as loud as usual. And I just dissolved when the woman trying to make me calm down hugged me. She was one of those factory women who smelled of metal and soot and oil and had arms as thick as any man's, but she knew how to handle a sobbing full-grown man. I hadn't been hugged in… Good lord. I hadn't been hugged in… in years. At least, not by anyone but ma.

I'm a hugging person. I don't like being without physical expressions of affection. I've been deprived for so long, even a woman I've never met who hugs too hard and is covered in things that will probably give me a rash is a beautiful feeling. She was a mother. It was the way she murmured and held me, in the particular way of women who'd had to deal with crying children for much of their lives. Eventually, the hubbub was fading, while Antonio kept shouting what sounded strangely like apologies mixed with death-threats, still in Spanish, so I pushed away and the woman wiped my face with her sleeve.

"Well, tha' was interesting," she said, with a Scottish accent that made her voice sound like it was purring. "I've never seen a groown man fall teh pieces after shouhtin' threats of death to 'is over-protective friend."

"He's not a friend," I told her stiffly, rubbing my eyes on my wrist. "He's a coworker. You probably didn't hear the part where he tried to deny hating my guts. After this, he's got no reason to pretend. And I don't see WHY he's protective," I burst out against my will. "It's not MY fault Creeper keeps asking my advice—"

"Creeper?" the woman asked curiously. I turned red.

"I don't know his name, so I call him Creeper, because he's just weird. He asked me for help with dissuading a lady friend earlier today, and Tony decided that I'm not allowed to talk to him." I glared at Antonio, who was by now halfway across the room. There were several strong folk still encircling me, uncertain, though I felt tired and crabby and full of sharp pains that made it impossible to go over and break his nose. I'd missed the first three times I'd tried. He was going to have some absolutely gorgeous black eyes tomorrow.

"Well, seein' as ye doon't know the lad's name, I'd be concairned too," she said dryly. I scowled.

"He's a good kid. Creepy as fuck, but a good kid. I bet I'd hate him in real life," I muttered to myself, then took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay. I got this. Just… just need one more, and I'll be good," I mumbled to myself, trying not to sound desperate. "It'll help with…" I couldn't think of what it would help, so I just trailed off and stumbled back to the bar. Jerry whipped out a Heroes Ale, and I didn't even thank him, just drained it and gave him too much money and tottered (there's no other word for it) out into the too-warm air of a sticky summer night. I could feel people watching me, but I was too drained to care.

I noticed I was still clutching my phone. It was absolutely mangled, but it still flickered feebly, trying to get my attention. I leaned against a wall and tried to press the button to open voicemail. It didn't work, so I started pressing random buttons, and eventually, it opened voicemail and obliged with a distorted, pitiful recitation.

"_Hey, old man. I know your friend said no, but I need to talk to you. It's urgent. And… tell me what happened. I know when something's wrong, and you know that. Alright? …Call me back. Thanks."_

The speakers fizzled on the last words and popped. The lights flicked off. My phone was dead.

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry again. I don't know how I got home, but I think a taxi was involved, and luckily I got a reputable one who didn't take me to some private area for a gang to disembowel me. Again, I paid too much. He certainly didn't mind, maybe because I hadn't puked or made too much noise and was ready to fork over a load. I am very certain he saw the empty condition of my wallet and the guilt and anger and jumbled negative emotions on my face, and that's why he was nice and waited until I actually managed to open the door to my house and got inside. It's good to know someone sober with a car is there to make sure you don't fall over dead on the stoop. There's not much they can do once you're inside, but still…

I stood in the shower until I felt marginally better, and ate a couple bananas and went to bed, anticipating a deadly headache in the morning. I completely forgot about my broken bones, but in the middle of the night, when they tried to kill me, I activated and made them heal faster. I've done it before. It takes a long time, and it doesn't go all the way, but it does a lot to help. I was so exhausted that I slept through the alarm clock, and Agnes had to wake me up by shouting, _"HEY YOU LAZY IDIOT, GET UP!"_

"Not so loud," I groaned, struggling to even raise my wrist to look Agnes in the eye via holo-screen. "My whole body is trying to murder me."

"_I didn't hit you that hard,"_ Antonio objected snidely. My attention focused, and I tensed in remembrance of last night, even though he didn't show on my screen.

"And if you did, I hit you a million times harder," I hissed, so I didn't have to growl and make my throat vibrate, which would hurt the base of my skull. "You forget, I'm more experienced at brawling than you."

"_Because you're a violent drunk," _Dragon Kid commented. I almost shouted, but I couldn't, physically and mentally. I didn't have the heart to protest, and it wouldn't matter my trying to deny it. It was true. No point anymore. No point in denying anything…

I sat up to get my mind off all those dismal thoughts and listened to Agnes relay the information, grimacing at her tone, which was one of absolute fierce joy, as if she relished explaining how terrible our new assignments were. It was a packed day. I closed my eyes tight and tried to mentally prepare myself, but it didn't work. She cut the call right at the seven minute mark, and I shambled like a dead thing to the bathroom.

"Call me back, he says," I muttered gloomily as I fetched a towel. "Call me back, eh? Hard to do with no phone…"

I looked down at my wrist, at my call bracelet, and wondered tiredly if it had a phone call ability. Probably. Might as well check.

I don't know why I have his number memorized, but when he picked up and said _"Hello?" _all confused-like, I grinned. My day was going to get a lot better.

"Hey, kid!" Why does his voice give me a sense of stability in this cruel world? "Sorry about yesterday, Tony broke my phone. I believe we had been in the middle of a conversation, and you had something important to tell me?"

He laughed, a happy laugh that came crystal clear, unlike when I was using my cellphone._ "Oh, good! I'm glad you got my message, then. Is Tony the one you've been hiding from?"_

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna face him today, I gave him some nasty bruises last night. I lost my temper." Will the bracelet survive the shower? I stuck my arm in the spray experimentally and grinned. Yup, still works! I tore off my boxers and jumped in happily. "So how are things with you?"

"_Well, the girl I've been having trouble with has left me alone. I explained to her that it really wouldn't work out, since I already have a special someone."_

I frowned. "Special someone? You didn't tell me."

"_Because you're that someone."_

…I don't think even the core of the sun could have been hotter than the blush that poured through my face. "Umm…"

"_Not in the romantic way," _he assured me hastily. _"I just used you as an excuse. I hope you don't mind."_

"Not at all," I replied, trying to make my heartbeat calm down and forgive him for the scare. "So you got that girl to back off. Cool. What was so important?"

"_I… ah." _It was very unlike him to pause awkwardly before even beginning the sentence. _"I was wondering… if you would like… to come to the graduation ceremony."_

"Graduation?" It's hard to wash with only one hand, but I managed. I sacrificed three precious seconds to comb my fingers through my hair and work the shampoo in a bit more. I HATE having greasy hair. "You're graduating college?"

"_No, I… I'm graduating from the Heroes Academy."_

"…Oh." I turned and backed up so the shower spray could actually rinse out the suds. "You didn't tell me you went to the Academy."

"_Didn't I?" _he answered vaguely. _"Oh, I suppose I didn't. Well, I've been here for about six years, it's time to allow them to kick me out."_

That, I laughed at. "Kick you out? Kid, I know you, you don't get kicked out; you walk out on your own and let people convince themselves it was because of them. Don't deny it!"

"_I never said I was going to. Would you like to come or not? It's next week, so…"_

I bit my lip. "When next week? I'll have to talk to my boss; you know, weird schedules and bad hours and all that."

"_Thursday, at 7PM. I'm assuming you know how to find your way there?"_

I snorted. "Ha! Who doesn't? The Academy is so new, the ribbon is still on the gates. Or, that's the way everyone still sees it. Is it nice there? Do they actually teach you things?"

"_Come to graduation and I will reveal all."_

"Bastard."

"_Idiotic old man."_

I wanted to talk all day, but I was almost done with my shower. I grimaced to myself. "Well, I don't know if I can get there. And I have to leave for work in a couple minutes, and I have no idea when I'll get out. I'll call you when everything's cleared up. Alright?"

"…_Yes. I understand."_

"Good." I grinned as I stepped out and grabbed my towel. "You're a good kid. I promise to try really hard to get the day off or something."

"_Thank you. Have a nice day at work."_

"That is entirely impossible, but thank you for the sentiment. Good luck with your last week of school."

He hung up first, and while this made me a little sad and kind of hurt, I shrugged and got over it, scrubbing myself dry and flinging on my clothes with complete disregard to whether my shirt was tucked in or not, and did a quick scrape to get off that stupid, stupid stubble. Why must I be cursed with such dark facial hair? Nobody notices when Sky High doesn't shave…

I was out the door after two quick bottles of Heineken and a last, longing look towards the muffins sitting in their plastic box on the counter. I already felt bad about being so blunt and short with him, but I had work to do. I could call back and have a proper conversation later.

Except that, when Tony saw me, he stomped right over and grabbed my collar and snarled, "Take it back, asshole. You had no right or reason to say that."

"Oh, I've got plenty of reasons," I snapped back, jerking out his grip. "And because I've got reasons, I've got rights. Free country, hombre. Unlike where you come from."

Tony hates being reminded that his parents fled their inlaws in Spain to settle in Mexico. His face went purple, which made his black eyes blend in quite nicely except for that greenish-yellow tint, and he would've tried to kill me if Agnes hadn't stepped in.

"Hey, idiots! Get to your stations," she snapped, pointing in the vague direction of the perp we were supposed to be trying to catch. "You can continue your fracas later, got it? Right now, HeroTV needs something to hold viewers, and unfortunately, you're the comedy duo that draws a crowd. Go!"

We both snarled at her and went to do our duty.

Comedy duo, bah… Even Tony has fans. I've got nothin', and with my ribs pounding and my head woozy…

"Oy, Ben," I hailed my manager tiredly, "What's the odds I can have Thursday off next week? My friend's graduating and he wants me to come."

"Call him or send him a card," Ben prompted bluntly, "Because you aren't going anywhere on Thursday." He held out my suit and I snatched it from him with a groan.

"Ben, I am so fucking sick and tired of this shit, why can't any of us have at least one day of PTO? I promise not to spend it drinking…"

He scowled back at me. "You break promises as often as walls. Maybe the Head Honcho will let you off for a few hours, but you're not getting paid time until you stop racking up all these debts. Be CAREFUL for once, will you?"

My jaw hurt, so I forced myself to stop grinding my teeth. "Yeah. I'll be careful."

~~~\0/~~~

"_It's not your fault."_

"Yes it IS!" I burst out, fighting back tears. "It's my fault, alright?! If I hadn't knocked over that piece of shitty so-called "art", I would have gotten that guy, AND I would have earned some free time! As is, my boss'll put me on overtime, AGAIN, and I won't have any time at all for the rest of the year! This is my goddamn fault, so don't try to be all nice and encouraging about it!"

"_I'm not being nice, I'm telling the truth. I have no idea what you're babbling about, but whatever it is, it's not all your fault. First off, it's the fault of whoever was making that "shitty so-called piece of art" to put it in quite that area. Second, it's the person's fault that they were running from you. Third, it's your boss's fault for withholding paid time off. There are labor laws against that."_

"I'm not part of any kind of union, though," I muttered, trying not to sink too far into misery, or into the couch cushions. "And nobody wants to add me to their union because my job description is so haywire. It changes every few weeks, god knows why."

"_You don't need to be part of a union. There are laws to prevent you from having to work every day at such strange hours, if it's harmful to you."_

"My job IS to be harmed." I pressed one hand to my injured ribs and winced. "If I try to point out those kinds of laws, my boss will laugh in my face and threaten me with a retirement package. And it won't even be a good package, just a few thousand and the stuff in my cubicle."

He sighed, a good-natured, though sad, sigh that made me wonder if he had ever had the feeling of drowning in your own career._ "You are a silly old man. I can't give you any advice, but I can tell you this; there are always ways to get what you want. But if you can't come to the graduation, that's fine with me. We'll just think of something else."_

I grinned, reluctantly. "Wow. You're really determined, aren't you?"

"_Well, of course. I want to meet you in real life, so I don't have to guess what you're like just by your voice. It's not like you can truly judge someone and their character simply by phone or through their written word. How do I know you're a good person to everyone else as well as me, if all we do is talk? I want to know what you're like," _he clarified, and there was a strange intensity in his voice that made me feel odd. _"I want to know if you really are a loathsome person, or if you're paranoid, or if your coworkers are simply prejudiced against you. I want to know why that Tony person won't let me talk to you. I want to know if the image in my head is the image of reality."_

"Uh." The odd feeling had changed, and it felt a little like embarrassment, now. "I like to think I'm a good person, and not paranoid, but it's hard when you're in a pit of vipers. I don't think you would like them. My coworkers, I mean. But, other than that… well, what's your image of me? I've always imagined that you were some baby-faced popular kid with enough charm to fill a swimming pool."

He laughed, and I grinned at both the delight and embarrassment in the sound. _"True enough, I suppose. At least, that's how others see me, or so they say. Whatever gave you that impression, though?"_

"The way you talk. Your accent. You've got a particular way of putting sentences together that makes me think you were raised well, and that usually translates into being a popular kid. And you're too nice. I know there's substance in that pretty-boy exterior, but the way you talk about your friends and classmates and what they do and say in turn makes me think they see you as some sort of… oh, I don't know. Some kind of standard in being human." I paused to let him deny it, but he didn't. "Did I get it?"

"_I… I suppose so," _he agreed slowly, sounding a little shy. _"Thank you, I guess. Did you mean that as a compliment?"_

"Oh, I suppose you can go ahead and think that," I sighed, grinning a bit. "Your turn."

"_I don't think you'll like it…"_

"Bullshit. Tell me, or I'll bug you until the end of time."

"_Well, it is only fair," _he acquiesced with a small sigh of his own. _"Do you want physical description or character profile?"_

"Both. Character first, though. I don't wanna hear about how many warts I have."

A small laugh. _"Oh, don't worry, I don't believe in putting warts on my friends. No… I think you're a lonely middle-aged widower with no clue how to operate in a public setting. Lonely, because you put up with me. Middle-aged, because of the pitch of your voice. You drink too much, you told me that yourself, so that would automatically lower your ability to function in polite society. You are not in poverty, but you are not part of the upper class. Your job has made you hard and bitter, but there are still soft spots in you, somewhere. You pretend that you don't really care what anyone thinks about you, but really you hold the hurt close to you. You wouldn't complain half as much if you really did let insults and such roll right off. Is it a coping habit, or are you just one of those people who don't like to let others know your real feelings?"_

I couldn't find the words to agree or disagree with either option. That… how can you tell that much about someone just by talking to them? It was like he'd been reading my diary, if I had one. Maybe it was because I'd told him so much about myself… "I… guess it's… a little of both? You are really fucking creepy, you know that?"

"_Why? Did I get it right?"_

"You fucking nailed it." I guess awe shouldn't be my strongest reaction when confronted by someone who's dissected my entire inner self, but I can't fear him. I don't know why. I just can't. He's perceptive, I've known this for… how long? Has it really been over half a year? Good god. "I guess you should tell me what kind of face you put on that."

"_I'm sorry… I didn't mean to offend you."_

"You didn't. That was just really freaky. Don't do it again."

"_Alright. I promise. Are you sure you want me to…?"_

"Yes."

A sigh rushed through the speaker, but since I was still using my bracelet, there was absolutely no crackle. _"Well, I think of you as a regular person, average height, average build, with a bit more muscle than most of the fellows on the street. I wish you would be good-looking, but really, how many men nowadays don't look like what you consider "douchebags"? That is a highly improper phrase, by the way—"_

"Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture. Let's see if you can tell me what I look like on the outside as well as what I am on the inside."

"_Hmph. Fine, be an ignorant bumpkin, see if I care." _It's impossible for him to hide it when he's joking. _"Hmm. Since you complain about your facial hair so often, I am inclined to believe you are either clean-shaven or have minimal coverage; a beard seems more likely than a mustache."_

I rubbed my chin and grinned. "Bingo on that respect."

"_Heh. Dark-haired?"_

"Brown."

"_Slightly longer than fashionable."_

"You have a photo of me, I swear to god…"

"_Well, since I don't stalk my friends, that is highly unlikely. I'm sorry to offend, but I've always imagined that you have pretty eyes."_

My ears and the back of my neck were the first to burn, but my face was a close second. "Nothing about me is 'pretty'. So THAT'S wrong."

"_I bet they're a soft doe brown," _he added wickedly, which made my face hurt even more. _"With naturally perfectly curled eyelashes and barely a wrinkle in sight."_

"Okay, now you're making fun of me."

"_Oh, contraire. And straight eyebrows, and a slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, and you smile more often than you frown. And your hands are scarred, but not so that they're ugly, just so that they show how hard a worker you are. And the over-all effect of you is that you are strong, capable, and were attractive earlier in life."_

"Um." Is it sad that these were the first compliments to me in years? "I told you, I'm not attractive. I never was."

"_You have beautiful eyes. Admit it."_

"I do not!"

"_Are they hazel, instead? Because that would also be rather adorable, combined with the rest of you."_

It was getting hard to breathe, and my heart was beating so hard that I could hear it. "S-stop it! I'm not adorable! I'm not attractive! My eyes are just normal brown, that's all!"

"_Well, I don't care what you look like physically. You're an adorable old man."_

That's when I started crying.

~~~\0/~~~

"I told you. Nothing good would come of it."

I tried to glare at him, but I couldn't. I was still preoccupied. "Fuck off, Tony."

"What'd he do?" he demanded, stepping in front of me. I tried to snarl, too, but it wouldn't come. Even if I was pissed off at him, I wasn't really ready to get defensive.

"He didn't DO anything," I muttered, trying to get around him. He got in my way every time. "Goddamn it, Tony, move it!"

"No. If he didn't actively do something, then what did he say?"

"It has nothing to do with you!"

"I'm sure it doesn't." Tony planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at me with a touch of Antonio the Terror. "But I still want to know."

"It's none of your business," I muttered, ducking around him and heading for the window. Bikes weren't good enough today. In this state, I'd take up most of the day… "And I still don't see why it matters to you if I've got actual friends or not. You're not my mother, and this isn't goddamn highschool. Get over it! You're a big boy now, fuck off and act like one!"

He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, but before he could start, Fire Emblem suddenly appeared and grabbed his ass, making him yelp very loudly. "Damn it! Stop doing that, it hurts."

"Geez, you'd think it's the end of the world," Fire Emblem pouted, then started cuddling up to him. "But you have the most glorious backside I have ever laid eyes upon! How can I resist?"

I sneaked away while Tony was distracted, and wondered if Fire Emblem was just seizing the opportunity, or was trying to help. Nah… nobody helps me. He was probably just horny today. Thank god he sees me as the epitome of greasy old man with no kind of attractive qualities at—

_You have pretty eyes._

I rubbed my mouth to hide the sudden heat in my face. I do NOT have pretty eyes. I don't know why it annoys me that he said that. No, not annoys me; it frightens me. No one has said that kind of thing, ever. Tomoe and I didn't have to tell each other what physical features were best. Ma never said I was cute. None of the women I've ever tried to have a relationship with ever mentioned what I look like, besides the initial "Hey, sexy" at the bar. Nobody has ever said I have pretty eyes.

I flopped on the couch against the window and folded my arms on the back, glaring at my reflection in the glass. What does he mean, attractive earlier in life? I know he's never actually seen me, but still… I really… I am NOT handsome, hot, beautiful, adorable, cute, sexy, gorgeous, pretty, or any other flattering description. I am a person.

My reflection was pale and very see-through, but also harsh and unforgiving. The crooked nose; permanent scowl; lines like parentheses from all the frowning; and my eyes. How can they be considered anything but eyes? They're shaped like little balls of goo that have a shit-ton of nerves in them and are kinda colored weird. I don't like them. I guess they can be labeled "fawn brown" at times, but they change color. Like now. They look like mud.

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my arms. He was just confused. And he's never seen me before. So it's okay. Maybe I'll send him a picture of myself, to show him that he's wrong, or maybe I'll get his email. Actually, no. I like not knowing who he is. I don't mind if he knows who I am, I just want him to keep quiet about who HE is. It's more fun that way.

Waiting, waiting… when will we get our next call? I don't want to talk to him right now, because of what he said, and because it won't be a closed system. I don't want everyone knowing what we're talking about. And Tony might object. But Tony's a possessive bastard and can go burn in hell for all I care.

"Hello, Wild Tiger!"

"Hello, Sky," I muttered, resisting the urge to snarl at him. "What do you want?"

"To know what you're sulking about, that's all." He sat next to me on the couch, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands around his knee, which I have never actually seen anyone in real life do. I eyed him suspiciously, but he just grinned, forever cheerful and innocent. "So what's the matter?"

I looked out the window again and tried not to be angry. "…My friend. He acted like an ass and didn't apologize."

"Ahh, kind of like you!" Sky High compared.

My entire body ached to scream at him, but no. I should at least try to be diplomatic. "Yeah… I suppose. Maybe I'm rubbing off on him more than either of us realized. Or… he claimed he was trying to compliment me, so I didn't get mad at him as much as I should've. So I drank too much again. That's all."

He nodded thoughtfully and I wanted to hit him. God damn you, you bastard, don't try to judge me based on this one incident. I hate it when people do that to me. He's going to tell me to "explain my feelings" and ask for an apology, just watch…

"I suppose you could explain to him why you were upset," Sky High suggested. Ka-boom. What'd I tell ya? "Asking for an apology would not be selfish, either. Being angry without finding a proper way to dispose of said anger is very unhealthy."

"I know that," I muttered, burying my face in my arms so I wouldn't have to look at him. "There's never a way to "dispose" of my anger. Drink it down or punch it out. Sometimes it goes away. This'll go away." I couldn't help adding, almost in a whisper, "I hope this'll go away, at least."

I didn't have to see him to know what his expression would be. Disgruntled, maybe. Offended, most certainly. With him, pity was a given. That asshole is always pitying me. I'm probably the lowest-grade alcoholic bastard son of a cabbage-gardener and a traveling salesman that he's ever seen.

'Course, I don't exactly know if my father was a traveling salesman. I just like the sound of it.

I tensed when Sky High put his hand on my shoulder. "It'll be fine," he said, and my jaw tightened at the gentleness of his tone. "You'll be alright." Then he walked away.

I closed my eyes tight and tried not to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm sorry I couldn't come."

"_It's alright. At least you called and warned me. It's always nice when the person you're counting on excuses themselves early, so you can prepare for disappointment."_

I rolled my eyes and ate the last bite of illicit bagel. I have no qualms about eating breakfast in the bathroom, as long as I'm not actively on the toilet. "Well, ahm SAH-wee, buh ah can' be evwewhere a' onfe."

"…_Repeat that, please."_

"I'm sorry, but I can't be everywhere at once," I got out when I managed to swallow. "My boss—"

"_Makes you work despicable hours and you don't have the guts to demand time off, yes, I get it," _Creeper snapped, interrupting for perhaps the fifth time in all the time we've known each other. _"Can't you come up with an ORIGINAL excuse?"_

"It's true!" I protested, "Except for the whole having-no-guts part. I ASKED, I swear I did, I threatened suicide, but he didn't even consider it. And it's not like we can't meet up some other time…"

"_You were the only one coming for me."_

I wanted to get angry, but that little piece of info made me want to sink into the floor. "I… I'm… sorry? Didn't your family…"

"_I haven't spoken to any of my cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents since I was ten. You SAID," _he reminded me. _"You SAID you'd come. You were the only person who said they would."_

"Well, I'm sorry, but other people have lives, too," I snapped, losing patience, "So stop whining. Fine, Tuesday at the Heroes Bar, first round on me. Six PM. And don't give me any of that "I'm too young to drink" shit, if you can drive, you can drink at least one beer with me."

"_Being buzzed is just as dangerous as being hammered."_

"Bullshit. Will you be there? It'll give you a chance to kick my balls in without having to stalk me based on my phone number."

"_I've got half a mind to promise and then not show up at all."_

"If you try, I'll stalk YOU by your phone number. Look, I wanna meet up just as bad, but I… everything is shifty, and I never have a clue when I'll be called in. But I'll make it at six. I swear on my honor as an alcoholic," I promised, raising one hand and putting the other over my heart, even though he couldn't see me. "And I will stay for as long as I can. I take the corner nearest the piano. You know how to get there, right?"

"_Ha. Everyone who cares about HeroTV knows where that is. Pledge on your grandparents' graves."_

"I pledge on the graves of my grandparents, my father, and my soulmate that I will be there." I blinked, thought about what I just said, and bit my tongue. "Ah. Sorry. That just kind of slipped out."

"_No, it's alright. I know she's important to you." _He always sounds sad when I mention Tomoe, and this time was no exception. _"But… those are good pledges. Yes. I will be there. I'll come at five forty-five."_

"Then I'll be there at four," I retorted, and grinned as he laughed. "No, seriously, I promise to be there by six. I wanna see if you've got brown eyes or green, since you apparently can't remember."

"_I think they're brown, actually…"_

"Doesn't matter. They're green, in my mind."

"_And yours are still pretty as a picture."_

My heart still lurches and my stomach still curdles when he says that. I will never know why. "Yeah, right. You will stand corrected at dinnertime on Tuesday."

"_I'm looking forward to it. Goodbye, old man."_

"G'bye, kid."

I felt… good. Not just because my new phone worked like a charm; because he'd sort-of forgiven me. And I'd finally get to see the face behind that fancy-boy voice!

I tried to convince myself that my childish excitement was just nerves, but no. I hadn't had a real friend in… decades. And talking isn't the same as seeing, interacting. Is he like a little kid, all baby-faced innocence and sweet awkwardness? Is he evil, with the kind of eyes women swoon over and the build they avoid on principle? Or is he just a normal person with a bit more money than most? Money makes everyone more attractive, and warps the way you interpret their character. Even now, I can see a turned-up nose, large eyes, an empty smile, and perfect white teeth that cost a small fortune to maintain. And a wimpy build. But doesn't the Hero Academy try to bulk you up?

I stepped out of the bathroom stall, pocketing my phone, and ran straight into Antonio.

He glared down at me, and I groaned. "Oh, piss off, Tony. It's not like he's gonna rape me with a chainsaw. It's just a few drinks."

"With someone who told you that you have pretty eyes," he added, frowning thunderously. "I smell trouble. You don't even KNOW this guy!"

"I know him well enough to know he won't be the kind of guy who kills people in the middle of a public bar," I snapped back; if I'd had hackles and feathers, they'd be raised and ruffled. "He's a KID, Tony. If anything, he should be wary of ME. Hell, he was in the Hero Academy, and you know they brainwash their students to be all nice and cheerful and helpful and shit. Look at Origami!"

"He's hardly cheerful," Tony contradicted. Good, my plan had worked. "He's the guy who refuses to speak unless spoken to, right?"

"Well, seeing as he doesn't prance around in tights or capes, then yes, I suppose he IS Ivan. Learn the names, Tony!"

"Why should I?" he grumbled. "I know you and Nathan. That's all I need."

"Nathan's Fire Emblem, right?"

"Yes. Maybe YOU should learn people's names."

"I know their goddamn names, I just don't put them together with the hero costumes!"

"Riiiight," Tony drawled, ignoring the way my hands clenched and unclenched. Ohhh, how I longed to break his nose and refresh those black eyes. Maybe I'd be able to give him a concussion, if I punched him out hard enough. "But anyway. You're not going alone. I'm coming with you, and you can't stop me."

"You are such a little kid," I muttered, skirting him and heading for the door. "I don't need a chaperone, it's not like he's gonna steal me away and destroy my innocence or whatever. We're gonna drink and decide whether it's worth it to still be friends. And with YOU there, it'll be awkward times a thousand."

"Which is good." He follows like a sheep, sometimes, mindless and silly. "It'll be awkward anyway, and my being there will prevent it from getting too terrible."

"How will having a giant, looming mother-bear keep things from getting terrible? And who says it WILL get terrible?" I tried heading towards Fire Emblem (no, Nathan, must remember that), but he wouldn't leave off, even though he could obviously see where I was heading. It was convenient that Nate was in the way in my route to the window seat. If he can peel Tony off me, I can reach the peace and quiet, the tranquility, of staring at this damned cityscape and trying not to slip slowly into madness.

"It doesn't FEEL right," Tony muttered, still following me, and getting closer. "You don't even know this guy…"

"Which is why I'm gonna go meet up with him," I explained in exasperation, "So I can say I actually HAVE met him, and I DO know who he is. Leave me alone, Tony!"

"What if he's some kind of murderer?"

"Good lord, you're turning into your mother!"

"She had the right of it all along. I'm not letting you go out without backup."

"I don't goddamn NEED backup! How many times do I have to tell you, it's just drinks, I can take care of myself, and I doubt he's some kind of murdering psycho who gets off on luring his victims into a false sense of familiarity. He's barely twenty!"

"So he says," Tony muttered. I whirled on him and opened my mouth to shout when Nate slithered up and decided to cling to Tony like saran wrap.

"So who says, sweetums?" he cooed in Tony's ear, while his victim yelped and tried to peel him off. "Is our little old man finally getting out of the house and meeting adorable young men for me to be introduced to?"

"NO, I am NOT," I snapped, backing away slowly. "I'm meeting up with friends. That's different."

"He's not even a real friend!" Tony spat back, ignoring Nate's sudden increase in interest. "He's just a dude you talk to on the phone!"

"Correction, he talks to ME. He always calls first." This had always been something I considered worthy of being proud of. If he likes calling me, that means he likes talking to me, and thus, he doesn't mind me. I enjoy that bit of information very much. "And he isn't over-protective and annoying and weird like you, so he's a much better conversationalist than you will EVER be."

"So, you have ONLY ever talked to him, and that only on the phone," Nathan deduced, snuggling closer. Tony struggled, but seemed to have given up. "And now you're going to meet him? Isn't that a little unsafe?"

"Exactly my point!" Tony began, but Nathan cooed some more and stroked his chest fur and Tony renewed his kicking and screaming. Except he wasn't screaming, he was just swearing. Loudly.

I waited for a lull, so they could hear me when I said, "The only way it could be unsafe would be if he was willing to do something awful to me in public, with a bunch of drunk people around. They know me there, they won't mind kicking him while he's down. Somethin' to do, at least." I shrugged and ran.

I want to see him. I want to show Tony that he's wrong. Good lord, I need to stop thinking about it.

"I don't have pretty eyes," I told the window, and was confident I could convince the kid of that. He will look at my dun-colored eyes and take it back. I admit, they lighten and darken according to my mood, but they are either muddy or dusty. My eyes are a country road. What are his? I hope they're green. I have it fixed in my head that he's got bishie eyes, a dark green, like sea-algae. Algae and, in the right light, green grass, or leaves. He's plant-like in my head. I guess I'm a rock.

~~~\0/~~~

"He's not here," I mumbled, trying not to let my face show my disappointment. I'd told him, stool nearest the piano, at six… no. Maybe he's held up. I convinced myself of that and took my usual seat, ordering my usual. Jerry, the bartender, seemed to be rather friendly today. Ah, partaking of his own brews, has he? Well, can't blame him; he stocks great brands. I've tried every flavor of sherry he has, they're all delicious. Then again, it's hard for me to find a sherry I DON'T like.

Does he like sherry? Eh… he seemed more like a martini kind of guy, which is sad, actually. Straight-up drinks are the best way to go, although, I gotta admit, Sex on the Beach is very tasty.

What? I like diverse drinking. Beer is my standby, but when I'm drunk enough, I'll drink anything. Even vodka, which I usually avoid on principle. I should introduce him to Captain Morgan. They would be very good friends. The Captain and I go waaay back; ah, the rowdy middle school days of my youth.

At six-thirty, I looked around and saw no one. Nobody new. No blond pretty-boy. No blond ANYBODY. I focused on my beer again. Surely he'll be here at seven.

At seven, I looked around and told myself to wait until eight.

At ten-thirty, I gave up and went home.

~~~\0/~~~

"Status on Mission: Meet The Cutey?"

"Miserable failure," I muttered. "He didn't show. Asshole. And I doubt he's cute."

"You're hung-over, you idiot. How long did you wait?" Tony thrust a water-bottle in my face and I took it with a grumble. "If you left before he got there…"

"I was there four fucking hours, six to ten, and he said he'd be early. Fucking prick." I drained the bottle. "I'm still drunk, aren't I?"

"Yes." Tony handed me a banana. I devoured it. "You need to stop drinking every morning."

"Can't," I mumbled, burying my face in my arms. "It's there, I drink it. Six bottles a day. Ten if I go to the bar. More than that. I'm going to kill myself eventually, aren't I?"

Tony, who has heard this litany before, sighed and sat on the floor across from me. "Yeah, your liver's gonna blow in two, three years. Cancer is a probability."

Nathan, who had not, nibbled his manicured fingernails and frowned at me. "Why can't you stop?" he demanded irritably, "If it means you'll die at an early age, why not at least TRY to stop?"

I laughed. It was not a good sound in any sense of the word. "I have. I tried after the first three-week binge, but it was kind of habit, so I was still at the bar at five after eight months. I've stockpiled, beer and whiskey, for the day I go broke. I'm gonna be a wino. Kaede will never acknowledge me. Ma will disown me and Muramasa will send out his warg riders. I'm going to die."

"Have another banana," Tony offered placidly.

"You are hopeless!" Nate huffed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "I give up! Why do I even talk to you?"

"Because you like to make yourself feel important by comparing yourself to me." I ate another banana.

"Because you're a nosy busybody who wants to meet his verbal penpal just because he's blond with blue eyes and was raised with money." Tony gave me another water.

Nate stared at us. He looked surprised and scared. I smiled at him, very poorly. "You're as transparent as me, sometimes, you rich gay bastard. Leave me to my despair for a few hours, alright?"

He nodded and disappeared.

I waited until he was far away before hiding my face behind my knees and stifling my sobs. I'm an emotional drunk. He abandoned me, and I'd abandoned my only child, and my wife surely hated my very being because of what I've done, and I had no friends and a terrible job and enough alcohol to last through the Apocalypse. I hate the world. I hate myself. I hate life. I want to die. Just get it over with, let me die, let me die…

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Tony suddenly announced, and disappeared.

This allowed me time to sob until my face hurt, although I hid my (the only word for it is keening) in the crook of my arm. Mustn't bring the others down on me. Mustn't look weak. But, oh, my heart…

I gave out at the last and didn't bother controlling myself. I hadn't had a good cry in a very long time. And my crying is messy. My nose runs, my lungs heave, my sobs are the loudest and most childish sobs ever sobbed by an adult, and it's hard for me to catch my breath, which means my sobbing gets louder and hurts, and then it backs down into sniffles, and I try to contain myself, but then the hiccups start and it starts all over again. I can't swallow when I'm crying. I have to be careful and keep the saliva in until the next time I can sniffle, then I gulp and whimper and cry some more. It takes me a long time to get it all out properly.

When I finally felt it all fall down into my diaphragm and jolt there, useless and inexpressible, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and my nose on my shirt, and had another bottle of water. My hour was up. I am not moving. This tangled jumble of exercise equipment that I fenced myself in with, it is my shelter. I just sat, curled up, back against the wall, water bottle cradled between my chest and my knees as I wrapped my arms around my legs and turned my head to stare sightlessly at the wall, my cheek starting to numb as it was pressed against my knees.

It took all of three hours for me to be able to get off my arse and crawl towards the opening between two of the bikes. My head was still full, and the beer was making me unsteady on my feet. But I managed to stumble to the bathroom and heave a bit and cry some more as my stomach purged me a little. Then I went back to my haven of the bikes, and curled up on my side and passed out.

~~~\0/~~~

"…wrong with him?"

"He's drunk."

"Already? It's barely noon!"

"He drank too much last night, and that usually makes him feel like he has to drink more. He's one of those guys who get really depressed when hammered."

"Poor fellow."

"Poor what?! He's a drunkard. Why is he even still a hero?"

"Because he's too stubborn."

"Well, I think he—"

~~~\0/~~~

"Oy, wake up, old man."

I didn't want to, but I did, and grumbled unintelligibly as a sneakered foot nudged me again. "Okay, I'm up, I'm up," I muttered, wriggling away from the foot and rolling over a little to glower at Blue Rose. "And I'm not old yet. You're just a kid, so you don't know."

"Get up," she snapped, and kicked me a little harder before stalking away. I muttered something not garden party appropriate and creaked to my feet. Is my stomach unsettled? No. Is my head stuffy, or full of air? No and no. Can I see straight? Yes. Can I walk in a straight line? No. Three out of four, let's do this shit.

Tony threw a hot towel at me as he and the others flooded out. I caught it and scowled after them. No one stayed to yell? No one lingered to throw one last insult? No one to jeer at my babyish ways?

This hurt, and I didn't know why.

I sopped up some more tears with the towel and struggled to get ready to leave. Ow… every joint, every muscle, every square inch of my skull… Oh, lord, I just want to sleep… But that was the whiskey talking. Must get going; once in motion, you stay in motion. Motion produces emotion. Learned helplessness. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Positive. I am positive. Today, I can catch one. I can save one. I can. I think… I know… I will…

I crumpled.

Why weren't you there?

~~~\0/~~~

"_I… I'm sorry."_

"You should be." I had told him everything, in a monotone that felt like my throat had turned to lead. Mostly I told him about all the drinks I'd had and described them so he'd have an idea what he should try.

That part had been hard, but not as hard as the part where I told him I'd waited till ten, then gone home, then drunk some more, then had a breakdown. All that had been very sparsely described, almost those exact words in fact, because I couldn't trust myself to not be angry. And now his tone of voice was making me angrier, because he actually DID sound sorry.

"Where were you?"

The silence made me want to grind my teeth. Instead, I fell over on my side on the couch and curled up a little. Lying down will make me relax. I rolled over on my back when he stayed silent and asked, "Well? Do you have a girlfriend, or is your new job making your schedule insane, like mine?"

"_No, I… I… I was there," _he admitted. _"I… was… nervous."_

…Ahhh. I felt all of the air in my lungs disappear, as my heart sank like the core of a blackhole, so dense, so heavy. Nervous. He'd been nervous. And I'd been so scared he'd turn out like the others, like he'd abandoned me at the last, left me alone and humiliated; I'd wanted so badly to call him, but I had trusted he'd just come to where I'd said.

"You weren't anywhere I could see you."

"_I know. I was trying to make sure you wouldn't see me. I'm sorry, I just… I'm… not used to suddenly being introduced to someone that I already know."_

I couldn't help a crooked smile. "How is that a coherent sentence?"

"_I don't know. Um. I was right, though," _he said timidly. _"You have… interesting eyes."_

"You were about to say pretty."

"_They're gorgeous when you're sober."_

I didn't have any shame or distress left. I didn't have enough energy to call him out. "Oh, really? What about drunk?"

"_They're endless." _He said it as if it were a compliment. _"Bottomless. Intense. Interesting. Why do you not have women flinging themselves at your feet?"_

"Because they aren't you. You only look for what you want to see. How long were you watching me?"

"_For about an hour. Then… I felt like an idiot, and I almost went up to you, but I couldn't figure out what I would say, so I just left."_

"You could've said, "Hello, we talk on the phone constantly like teenage girls, how are you today?" or something similar." I hate you. No, no, I don't, I'm sorry, but how can you NOT think of something to say? "You could have just said, "I was right, you old bastard," and I would've know."

"_I wanted to… you just… you looked so content, and then you seemed to be angry, and I didn't want you to be angry at me."_

"I wouldn't've been. I would've been annoyed, but I only stay annoyed if you get angry back. Would YOU have been angry?"

"_I would've frowned on such behavior, yes."_

"Because you're a kid. You're still silly and young. No… we need some kind of code," I muttered, rubbing my temples. Ow… do not drink five glasses of orange juice laced with tequila. It's a terrible combination. "You can say something like, "How are you, old man?" and I'll say back "I'm fine, blockhead," and we'll be set. Or maybe idiot? Youthful one? What would you call yourself?"

"_How about Ben?"_

I blinked. "Ben? Why?"

"_Because I used to spell my name with an e instead of an a, so it was always Ben-a-bee. I was a phonetic speller, and I couldn't really distinguish between r's and n's. So, you can call me Ben."_

"Benny. I already have a Ben in my shitty life. You can be Benny. It's kind of a little kid name, anyway."

"_I don't think… Did you ever give me your name?"_

"No, I didn't… Eh." I shrugged as well as I could. "My name's Kotetsu. You saw me and I didn't see you, so you can know that."

"_Kotetsu?"_

"Yeah."

"_That's… an odd name."_

"Japanese."

"_Oh."_

"What, you didn't notice the squinty eyes?"

"_That's RACIST!" _he yelled in dismay, and I just laughed.

"So? White people call themselves crackers, and I know lots of Yankees, and some Krauts and Limeys—"

"_Stop that!"_

"So why can't I call myself a Jap? It's a name." I shrugged. "Now, it's offensive when someone ELSE says it, but if it's me insulting myself, I can't give a single fuck."

"_You're still angry at me, aren't you?" _he asked quietly.

I sighed. "Yeah. I am. I'm sorry."

"_No… I'm sorry for making you angry. But… I meant it. If they're not pretty—"_

"Oh, god, please, no," I groaned, "SPARE me from the comments on my eyes!"

"_They make me glad that I know you. And so does the rest of you. You look like a good person. I like that."_

It's nice that people on the phone can't see you blush. "Yeah? Don't tell me this is one of those stupid fall-in-love-with-someone-you-never-met things; that would be creepy as well as crazy." I grinned as he made a surprised, indignant huff. "Okay, not love, but slight man-crush. If it makes you feel better, I had one on an old fat guy once. He was a great person. Man-crushes aren't unmanly."

"_Well, then yes, I have a bit of a man-crush on you," _he confessed, quietly, nervously. _"You… are the only person besides my uncle who isn't utterly stupid at the base level. It's easier to reveal yourself through detached speech and written word than face-to-face conversations. Haven't you ever noticed? When you don't look at someone, it's easier to explain. I… feel much more comfortable with you than anyone here, in front of me, physically within speaking distance. I think, are you more comfortable with me?" _A hopeful anxiety, a child asking an adult for confirmation. I couldn't help a smile.

"Yes. I have said it before, I'll say it now; you are my only friend. And it's not all that no one else cares."

He's still just a kid. Lying a little won't hurt him. I've been lying to myself, too… Why else would I explode like that? He's not a constant. He's not rock-solid, something I can cling to and have everything get better. I should stop thinking like that. He's a kid, not… not a metaphorical concrete pillar that will hold me up as well as keep me from being swept away. He's a friend, not a protector. A person, not a benefactor. Tony was right, in a way; this is wrong. I'm putting him in the wrong position. I should stop leaning on him so much, and get things done without going to him every spare second of every day. Even if he IS the first person to actually be nice to me of his own volition.

I don't quite remember the rest of that conversation. I tried not to. He practically turned into a fountain, and I returned the favor, and I don't know why, but I just got lost and let him make me talk. He cried. I tried to make him feel better, but I made him cry more, and then he got very cold and angry, and I got angry back, and then he just hung up and I went to bed, seething.

I wanted to call him and say sorry, but at three in the morning we had to go do some kind of weird thing (I'm sure it wasn't a real heist) where the criminals saw Blue Rose and groveled, salivating, and we all got one, and Blue Rose squeaked and hid behind us so the leering bastards wouldn't get a good look at her for very long. I kicked the worst of the lot, not very hard, but enough that he tried to shoot me. Rock Bison took his gun. Blue Rose seemed to retreat behind me and Origami Cyclone the most often, but when I noticed, she suddenly blushed fire-engine red and made a point of snubbing me at every opportunity.

It was weird. And Creeper—no, Benny, called me at six. I opened my mouth to say sorry and he said, _"Please do not call or expect me to return the favor for the next five days."_

"Why?" I demanded, but he'd already hung up.

Needless to say, I was in a terrible mood for the first two days. After that, though, I just…

~~~\0/~~~

"What's wrong with YOU?"

I kicked the air, sitting on the platform on the fire escape, and ignored Dragon Kid. It's hard to bounce back, y'know? You get used to someone, a constant, and when they disappear, it's… weird. Empty. It was like when Muramasa went to college. I'd walk into his room to yell at him to help me fix my dirtbike and realize that the bed was neatly made and the walls were empty of centerfolds ripped from illicit magazines and he wasn't here anymore. And for the first week I was glad; and the next month I couldn't figure out what was making me grouchy and anxious, until I got a postcard from him.

I shouldn't be this invested. He's not my brother. He's just a fucking FRIEND…

No.

When he first called… I'd given in and talked because I was angry and tired and wanted an escape that wasn't alcohol. That was my mindset forever after; he called, I remembered my woes, I told him everything.

"Hey, I asked you a question!"

"And I don't want to answer it," I muttered. "There's nothing wrong. I'm being, as the rest of you so tactfully put it, a Difficult and Odious Old Man."

"That was Karina, not me." She plunked herself down beside me and brought her knees up to her chest, crossing her arms on top of them and scrutinizing me in a rather unpleasant manner. "…Why are you so stupid all the time?"

"Why do YOU try to MAKE me be stupid?" I shot back. "You AND the others. It was annoying when I first started, and now it's just infuriating. You've only been on for three months, and you're already fourth."

I didn't mean to sound so bitter. I just did. The street below was very small at this height. I wondered what would happen if I jumped down. No, I shouldn't think like that. He said five days… no, I shouldn't think about THAT, either. Must get over it. I can hardly apologize at this point.

"Tch. He's gonna kill me anyway," I mumbled to myself. "'S not my fault he's so weird… only person, pah! He's got goddamn friends…" And my eyes are not pretty. My stomach rose at the thought, but I held on to it anyway. He'd sounded like he meant it…

"What are you muttering about?" Dragon Kid asked, looking curious, not disdainful. "Are you talking about the guy Rock Bison keeps yelling at you about?"

I glared at her, but she didn't want to be provoked, so I gave up trying. It's easier to get rid of them when they're willing to be mad. "Tony is a half-wit and an idiot. And it is NOT my fault," I said, a little louder, a little angrier. "I was buzzed and it was late and it is NOT my fault that he wouldn't let me say sorry. Stupid kid," I added in a mutter.

Dragon Kid continued watching me. I continued watching the street. A crazy person stumbled into the middle of the road and got run over by a grocery van. The driver immediately got out and made sure he was okay; traffic went around them. Some other bystanders went and helped.

Any other day, any other road, any other driver, and that crazy person would've been dead and left in the road for the next horror-stricken commuter.

"I hate people," I whispered.

"People are stupid," Dragon Kid agreed calmly. How does she do that? Even a girl, hardly more than a toddler, has more self-control than me. "Are you done sulking?"

"Sulking is a way of life, not a state of mind," I tried to grump, but it came out in that lofty, condescending tone I used with Benny. The one that makes him laugh and tease and call me an idiot.

Dragon Kid laughed too, weirdly. "Hey, I didn't know you could be human!"

"Human? Pah! I come from a long line of fantastically odious idiots. We are far more than human." Why am I being so silly? "Blue Rose has discovered my secret identity, and that's why I came here. I'm sending a signal via mope so my brother knows who to wait for in a dark alley." I couldn't help feeling a little happier when she laughed again, rocking back a little. She sounds like Kaede, only older.

Kaede…

"Why aren't you like this all the time?" Dragon Kid demanded, still smiling. "It's way better than being grumpy with everyone for no real reason."

"Well, wouldn't you be grumpy too, if everyone automatically hates you?" I countered, scowling. Why'd you have to cut my good mood? And I'd almost been happy again. "It's kind of hard to skip into work with ribbons in my hair, throwing flowers everywhere and singing folk songs about bumblebees and spring—Ow!"

It hadn't actually hurt, when she punched me, which was what had surprised me. She was grinning again. "Don't put that image in my head! Ew! Gross! I hate you!"

"Exactly what I meant!" I exclaimed triumphantly. "You already hate me. Therefore, if I come in tomorrow with a basket of flowers, you'll automatically assume the worst, and that will make me very sad." I tried on my best defeated puppy look and grinned as she kicked my knee. Is this what actually having fun is? Huh. Is it because she is Kaede, or because I just need something, somebody to distract me? Does it matter?

"Well, alright, I guess I understand," she said with a bit of a sigh. "It's that whole preconception idea. I was expecting you to yell at me to leave you alone, you know."

"And any other day, I would've," I agreed glumly. "This is a lucky coincidence. That's MY preconception; I expected YOU to call me a fool for moping about without telling anyone anything, or some other insult. And why didn't you, anyway?"

She grinned crookedly. "Well, I decided that SOMEONE has to be nice to you around here, even if it is for just a day. You've been worse, and now you just… crashed."

I stared at my knees to avoid looking at her. A taxi zoomed by below, completely overshooting a long line of anxious people with briefcases to pick up a disheveled pair of women in colorful dresses that might have been a little slutty. "I didn't 'crash'," I contradicted irritably. "I gave up being angry. There's a huge difference."

"Well, then, why does giving up on being angry translate into moping and snapping when anyone says something about it?" she persisted. I resisted the urge to bop her on the head.

"If I'm not angry, I can't be happy," I explained, trying to find the words, feeling frustration when they wouldn't come. "No, that's not it… I can't… I'm too used to being angry all the time. Well, not ALL the time," I confessed, thinking of… no, that doesn't count. "I don't know how to be happy, I guess. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I went a day WITHOUT drinking."

"Drinking makes you happy?"

"No, it helps me stop blaming the world for my problems. That's why I'm such a baby when I'm drunk." I remembered that day after… the back of my neck got very warm, as did my ears.

Dragon Kid grinned again, but it wasn't a comforting, I'm-sorry-you're-an-idiot or a condescending you-silly-old-man-I-didn't-know-you-were-an-alcoholic grin. I don't know what it was. "I knew it. You really DO need people to be nice to you once in a while."

"Everybody needs someone to be nice to them," I tried to say in a grumpy kind of way. It came out half a question, and I muttered something not suitable for the ears of the young (as evidenced by Dragon Kid's scandalized look of embarrassment and horror). "Sorry. Sorry." I ran my hand through my hair and rubbed my mouth a little. "Not… well, like I said, I'm not at my best."

She stared for a little while longer, then stood, brushing the dirt and rust off as she did so. I continued to watch the street. She's decided, then. I'm an uncouth, ridiculous old man with fluctuating moods and a terrible outlook on the world and my place in it. And she's absolutely—"Hey!"

She ignored my yelp of surprise and continued dragging me back from the edge of the platform, then hauled me to my feet (which I do not understand the physics of, because she is about two to three feet shorter than me. I think.). "Come inside, so the others won't think I'm crazy when I tell them you aren't as odious as we thought," she commanded, and though I protested, I was still too shocked to really put up a fight. She dragged me by my elbow, too, which meant I was almost bent in half for much of the time.

We re-entered the training center, and I suddenly had a stupid, giddy, panicky vision of doves and rainbows flowing from behind us into the chamber, with unicorns and clouds and classical Greek pillars scattered in pleasing formations. Maybe some butterflies. The way everyone was staring could easily fit that situation, too. My panic kept me from being angry, or laughing manically at the vision in my head.

"You owe me ten dollars," Dragon Kid announced, grinning at Blue Rose, who put her hands on her hips and gave a huff of disbelief. "He actually made JOKES. It was weird."

"It's not my fault you practically tormented me into talking to you!" I snapped, tugging at her grip. She simply tightened it. "Lemme go!"

"No."

"What kind of jokes?" Blue Rose sneered, though her anger seemed to be directed at me. I tried not to be livid. "Dirty old man jokes, probably—"

"No, actual silliness." Dragon Kid let go of me and marched confidently forward, announcing in a loud and grave voice, "I have gone through swearing and complaints about the world in general; I have suffered the infliction of stupid old men trying to not be stupid; I have come through hell and arrived safely upon earth. Give me my ten dollars."

I couldn't stop myself, I started muttering under my breath, "No wifin' in da club, gimme twenty dollars, no wifin' in da club, gimme twenty dollars…"

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE RIGHT! He CAN make references!" Fire Emblem (why do I keep forgetting? His name is Nathan) gasped. "What kind of joke did you do?"

"It wasn't a joke, I was just being nice and not swearing at her," I snapped, but Dragon Kid overruled me.

"He said, and this is verbatim; "Human? Pah! I come from a long line of fantastically odious idiots. We are far more than human. Blue Rose has discovered my secret identity, and that's why I came here. I'm sending a signal via mope so my brother knows who to wait for in a dark alley." And he said it in a silly voice, too!"

"I did not!" I snapped, as Sky High suddenly laughed and Origami Cyclone coughed to stifle a giggle of his own. "I didn't even—why is it so funny?!"

"Because you're NEVER silly," Origami explained, still trying in vain to cover up his smile. "You're always so angry, it's funny that you can even begin to be silly."

"Everyone gets silly," I muttered grumpily, trying to ignore the fact that Blue Rose was starting to giggle, too, and Sky High was practically cackling, and Fire—Nathan was chuckling, and Dragon Kid was grinning, and Origami Cyclone was accusing me of, technically, not being human. This was… just… humiliating. I tried so hard to get their attention, and when they DO pay attention…

I turned and (almost) ran away. No. NO. Why did it have to be THIS? When you finally look and see a person under all my frowning, you find something you can laugh at? Am I really… but I… For some reason, hearing their laughter stifled as someone called after me sharply gave me a vicious little stab of… triumph? Maybe. It was laced with malice and irony and bitterness. I was a wreck. Don't laugh at me, you assholes.

Why did I ever let myself slip up like that? Why did I have to go and be nice?

~~~\0/~~~

"Um… hello."

"_Hello."_

"I… I'm sorry. About… well, everything, I guess. I just… didn't…"

"_I forgive you."_

"Really?"

"_Yes. Now leave me alone and don't call me."_

"But… why?"

"_Because my uncle is as terrible as your Tony."_

"What do you—"

_click_

~~~\0/~~~

"Drink ye whiskey, nao, there's a lad."

I downed my glass and told myself not to cry. "Which is worse?" I asked dully, "Being despised because you're always pissed off, or being called a fool and a clown just because you were trying to be nice to someone?"

"I'm sure I doon't know," the Scots woman said placidly.

"I think they're equally bad," grumbled the fellow on the other side of me. He also had a bit of a European accent, but I couldn't place it. I'm too American, I guess. "It's a cycle, too. You try to be nice, and they poke fun at ye, and you get angry, and they scold, and you try to be nice, and they call ye weak and a fool, and ye get angry…"

"They won't just shut up and leave you alone," I mumbled into my glass. Ice is crunchy, and it's water. I like to tell myself in counteracts all the alcohol. "And when one of them is the kind of person who grabs on to a humiliating experience, well… of course, it's all in the name of 'good fun'," I muttered sourly. "It's only to lighten the mood."

"It's oonly a bit of a johke," the Scots woman added softly. Ahhh, I remember; she said her name was Mary. "It's oonly teh create good sportsmanship."

"It's only because you're always so dour," the European threw in. "It's only because you need to learn how to have fun."

"I swear, one day, I'm gonna convince myself I can fly and just launch myself out the window," I mumbled. Jerry was kind enough to top up all our glasses; Mary asked for less, this time around. I was losing the ability to say words. "Tomorrow is as good a day as ever. If I'm lucky, I'll crawl back home and die with a beer in my hand."

"Nao, doon't go a'killin' yeself, jest because ye doon't know what to do," Mary warned, pointing the paper umbrella from her earlier martini at me. "T'will only end in tears, for both yeself and ye kin. Di'n't ye say ye had a daughter?"

"Yeah, but I'm not enough of a dad to actually claim her as my daughter," I contradicted with a sudden burst of bitter coherency. "She hates me. I'm never home, I don't even know how to treat her; the last I actually held her and was a real parent was when she was five. No, four. My life is purgatory, if not at least the first level of hell."

"Not as bad as mine, mate," my other drinking partner snorted. "I ain't seen my little ones in twenty years; I can only see them as little babes, barely out of diapers. They was took by the orphanage when my wife passed. Didn't even let me say g'bye."

"Condolences, brother," I sighed, gripping his shoulder in sympathy.

Mary gestured for more whiskey.

~~~\0/~~~

"Hey, Benny. I know you said not to call, but… um. Please. Please? I'd really like someone to talk to, and… and you're… please call me back. Bye."


	3. Chapter 3

**Playlist while writing:  
Lord of the Rings: Two Towers soundtrack  
Perfect Two, Auburn  
A Thousand Years, Christina Perri  
In Your Arms, Kina Grannis  
Only Exception, Paramore  
Such Great Heights, The Postal Service  
We Are Going To Be Friends, The White Stripes  
Oppan Gangnam Style, Psy**

**Enjoy.**

~~~\0/~~~

I'm not one to notice the sky, but the moon was unusually clear tonight. As was my coworkers' intentions.

"—actually FUNNY! I don't know how it happened; maybe he ate something bad for him…"

"It might be because he hates being indoors. Fire escapes are his favorite hangout."

"Really?"

"Yeah… it was the same in school. They're only second to the roof."

"You went to school with him?"

"We were rivals. There was a brief period where we joined forces to clear out a couple miscreants who'd kidnapped one of our classmates, but that was about it."

"So he was always interested in law enforcement."

"I don't know about enforcing the law, but he was always dead-set against wrongdoing."

"So THAT'S why he won't just give it up yet."

I closed my eyes and tried not to listen. It was kind of hard, though, because Agnes had demanded we all attend some strange meeting with all our sponsors, with Mr. Maverick overseeing us. Mr. Maverick could make them all shut up. He could make them give it up and leave me alone. But no; he was ensconced in a private discussion with a couple bigwigs, and wasn't paying attention to his charges. I tried to sink further into the shadows. I don't want to talk to anyone when the rumor of my having a good side is still circulating.

Strange… I've wanted for so long to be noticed with indifference, at least, instead of being held in disgust, and now that I have someone talking about my being other than annoying and stupid and mean…

I don't want them making fun of me like that. I don't want to hear that incredulous tone, that heavy irony, that anger that I actually AM a human being. I know she didn't mean to, but Dragon Kid just ruined my life completely, utterly, inescapably. Even falling into a drunken slumber didn't help, last night.

They're talking about me again.

"Bison, my dearest—"

"Go away, Emblem!"

"—Did he ever find that mystery caller? The one that unnerved him so much he was drunk for a full day?"

"I don't think so. He hasn't called him for a while. Stop DOING that!"

"Why? You are just SO delightfully attractive!"

"Mystery caller? He said something about it not being his fault that someone wouldn't let him apologize, but…"

"Ahh, THAT'S why, then! Good! He shouldn't be letting him apologize, because then they'll start—oy!"

I think my sudden movement startled them. I was several yards away, but I can hear them. I have great hearing, when I want to. I pushed off of the wall and stomped to the balcony; the windows were open, because it was actually nice out, for once, and the smog doesn't reach this building. It's on the third tier of the city, so the sea winds blow the bad things away long before they even begin to rise above the second tier. So the balcony was open, but no one was on it.

What I really wanted to do was sit and dangle my feet off the edge like a child, damn sensibilities, but Agnes would shout and Ben would be angry and everyone else would be affronted. So I stood and leaned on the rail and held on to my elbows, because a breeze had suddenly sprung up, and it was a little chilly.

God, I hate this place.

The height was dizzying, and the moon was, as poets say, bright as a lamp. There were stars showing. You don't get that on the first tier, not very often. Too much smog… and nobody would care if you could. Stars don't put bread in your kid's mouth. The brightness of the moon has nothing to do with the efficiency of your work. If you don't get things done, you're sacked. Sometimes you get sacked for no reason. The stars can't help you find another job.

But they made my insides stop hurting so much. I can relax out here, alone, with my perfect, empty sky and my moon and my stars…

"Sooo, is it true? Or is he lying just to be mean?"

"Is what true?" I grumbled, refusing to acknowledge Blue Rose. I don't like her. Maybe because she's pretty and too young to be doing this job.

"Rock Bison said you two got together to rescue one of your classmates from a gang." She stared at me, hard, and I stared out at the city. "Is it true?"

"…We didn't "rescue" her," I said at last. "We distracted the bastard who tied her up and she got loose and ran. I covered for her. Anto—Bison beat up the little guys and I kicked the leader through the wall." I couldn't help a little grin. "Almost worth it, too. She… well." My grin grew, and I had to rub my nose to hide my blush. I don't know why I get bashful when I even begin to talk about her. "Um."

"'Um' what?" she snapped, and I couldn't really look at her. She's too young to understand. She wouldn't understand how much I… How much we…

"You've got parents, right?" I asked instead. "How did THEY meet?"

She gaped at me. "You mean… you were a… she…"

Now I gave her a sideways grin. "Ma said she was good for me, and my brother liked to say she'd managed to actually "tame" me. Bison was jealous. That's why we're not friends anymore."

Memories of Tomoe made me feel better about Tony blatantly spilling our life stories for no reason. Ah, the fury in her eyes when she slapped that bastard… that was a terrifying sight, but it made me love her more. People from highschool used to exclaim at how much being in love had agreed with us, as if… well, it was true, wasn't it? My passion for protecting people had been split in half, because I had someone I especially wanted to keep safe. Her hatred for me had slowly been worn down, and that made her much more mellow. Towards me, at least.

Blue Rose was still standing on the balcony with me. I frowned at her a little. "What? Don't you have concerts to wheedle out of your manager?"

"You're happy," she pointed out softly. There was a lot of confusion in her voice. "Why?"

"Because. I'm remembering. Memories are good for you." Especially of people you love. "You've had boyfriends, surely."

"Yes, but…" Now her tone was clumsy, and she started fidgeting. "You're MARRIED. That's… not… that's not really what I expected."

"I WAS married," I corrected. Suddenly… but her last words to me…

"But you're still wearing a ring."

"There's more than one way to lose someone." Now I sounded harsh. I didn't mean to, but I didn't want to talk any more. And I didn't want her pity. Go away, little girl. Go back to your lights and fake laughter and champagne that you're not allowed to drink. I want to remember happy things.

She lingered for a little, then disappeared. That was a very good thing.

Sea-breezes. Visible stars. Bright moon. My Tomoe. My Kaede. Happy things. Think about happy things, happy thoughts. Escape all the tensions… Yes.

And then my cellphone rang.

I stiffened, then snatched it out and answered with a hurried, "Hello, Benny?"

"_Hello, old man."_

Oh, thank god. Relief filled me, probably too much and too strong. "It hasn't been five days."

"_I don't care. My uncle is out at the moment, and thinks I'm studying. I'm sorry."_

"No, it's my fault, isn't it? I'm the one who mentioned goats."

"_You couldn't have known. No… I'm sorry. How have you been, these days I've been giving you the silent treatment?"_

I couldn't help a little laugh. "I've… I've been good. And you?"

"_I'm getting there." _What was THAT supposed to mean? _"I hope you don't mind, but I… ah… I searched your name and number. Your job description is… interesting."_

I almost fell over, my knees started shaking so bad. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and everywhere was cold. "Oh… oh. I, uh. You… um."

"_Maybe we'll meet someday."_

"M-maybe." I'm doomed. I'm doomed. I'm going to die. Oh my god why did you look me up. Why. "Why did you…?"

"_I wanted to know. Don't worry, I won't tell. It's just… how have you been holding on for this long?"_

I was starting to feel dizzy with alarm and shame. "I'm… too stubborn, I guess." I will not pass out. I will not pass out. I will not pass out. "Uh. Um." Don't panic, Kotetsu, don't panic, don't panic, please god don't panic and don't pass out and don't fall over—

"_Is something wrong? Kotetsu, are you feeling alright?"_

"Yes," I got out faintly. "Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. I'm just… not… oh god. I shouldn't've…"

"_I told you, I won't tell. Please, Kotetsu, what's wrong? You sound like you're about to fall over. Oh… is it about… oh, come now," _he snapped, starting to sound impatient, _"It can't be that bad. I don't mind you being a hero, and I especially don't care that you're the least of them. You're my friend. There's nothing wrong with having a terrible job."_

No one is supposed to know, NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW, and why did he—"WHY did you look me up?! You didn't even ASK! That's a violation of my rights!"

"_What, do you want to know all about me? Because—"_

"I don't CARE! You won't talk to me for four days and now I find out you've been running searches on me?! Dammit, Benny, that's not right in any sense of the word!"

Why am I so angry? Because the world has gone to shit and everything is going wrong and I was supposed to be happy and now I lost my only friend because friends don't DO that, friends don't take the information you give them and run background checks why would you DO that that's not okay Benny, that's not okay—

I couldn't get any words out that wouldn't have been curses, but I managed to hold back my fury until I could grind out, "Remember how I said I trusted you? Did you know that it's possible to lose someone's trust?"

"_Well, yes, but—oh. Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"_

"Oh, so NOW you apologize." I couldn't help an angry laugh. And yes, laughs can be angry. "No. You know what? I take it back. I don't care. Sure, go ahead, invade my privacy and pry into my personal life, that's fine with me. I've had enough people try to tear me into bite-sized pieces and find out who the hell I really am, one more can't hurt." Anger usually sustains me, but… not today. I forced my lip not to tremble. I will not fall to pieces. "Just… why did you think it was all right to basically stalk me?"

"_Like you said. I wanted to know who you are." _His voice was very small, and very scared. _"I didn't mean to… to make you angry. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."_

I rubbed my eyes and felt a reluctant, watery smile pull itself together on my face. "You are such a little kid," I whispered. "Have you had any experience with real people?"

"_I don't know. I'm sorry." _If he'd been right in front of me, I might have hugged him and told him it's alright, as long as he didn't do anything that invasive again. _"I didn't mean to hurt you."_

"You didn't. You're just the cherry on top. I… I lied," I mumbled. "I haven't really been much better than usual. Which is to say, things should be better, but they're not. Apparently I keep ruining everything that's good in this world." I smiled weakly as he gave a tiny, uncertain laugh. "I guess… can we talk tomorrow? I'm… too tired right now."

"_Alright. I have to finish studying. Uncle will be angry if he comes back and I haven't done anything."_

"You do that, kid. I'll try to survive this bullshit, and we'll compare angst tomorrow." I straightened and stepped away from the balcony rail, rolling my shoulders and wincing as my back cracked. "If you don't get an A, I'll buy you a special headband for crammers and send over my ma. She's very good at motivating."

This elicited the desired result; he laughed, a healthier one this time around. _"I'll try very hard. Tomorrow, then, Kotetsu."_

"Tomorrow, Benny."

We hung up at the exact same time, and this made me almost barely happy, for some reason. I turned and was confronted with Dragon Kid staring up at me, arms crossed, feet spread and braced. I scowled down at her. "How long were you eavesdropping?"

"Since "I don't care"," she answered promptly. "Was that your mysterious phone-friend?"

"Yes." I shoved my cellphone in my pocket and tried to go around her; she matched me step for step. I groaned. "Please, don't turn into Bison. I can barely handle one of him, I don't need a little blond one running around, too."

She wrinkled her nose at me. "Why were you angry at him?"

"None of your business."

"I know. What can I do with the information? I've already given 'em one piece on you, anything more will make 'em suspicious. And nobody else will care, you know that. Also, Blue Rose is still unhappy."

"It's her own fault." I ground my teeth. The little wench was right. No one would give a shit. "He invaded my privacy. That's all."

"So badly you had to start shouting?" Dragon Kid asked slyly, narrowing her eyes at me. I stared at her, horrified.

"I wasn't really shouting, was I?" I demanded frantically. "Did Bison hear? Shit! I'm gonna wind up in an alley somewhere with my neck snapped…"

"No, you weren't really," she sighed. "You were just obviously really angry. Everybody else is avoiding you."

"Then why are YOU eavesdropping?" I snapped, relieved that I would not, after all, die of a broken neck. "Shouldn't you be out letting people show you off as the child protégé of the Hero world?"

"Eh." She shrugged. "I got bored. You need a distraction, too. So we are going to go ask Mr. Maverick if we can leave."

"We?" I repeated, then yelped.

I do not know why she likes dragging people around, but thankfully she dragged me by my call bracelet instead of my elbow.

Not to say I didn't struggle, oh no; but I didn't want people to laugh at me, or really notice at all. Impossible. Dragon Kid took the shortest route, which was through the middle of the room, and though I dug in my heels, eventually she got me to stand in front of Mr. Maverick, who was smiling in amusement. It was ONLY amusement, too, plain and simple. That was better than everyone else's smirking.

"Dragon Kid! What is the meaning of this? Has our Tiger been climbing fire escapes again?" His smile made the joke much easier to swallow, even though with anyone else I would've gotten ready to sock them out.

"No, but he was about to." Dragon Kid dropped my wrist and grinned up at him fearlessly. He's our uncle. All of us, even one who's only been with us a few months, we all feel safe with him. "I'm bored, too. Can we leave?"

"I was hoping you would stay a little longer," he told her, surprised. Then, glancing at me, he smiled again and said, "Although, you look done in. You have every right to leave, you know."

"Thank you, sir," I said, surprised and relieved. "Didn't want to bother you, that's all."

"Slipping away quietly is perfectly alright," he reminded me. "Just don't engage Rock Bison in combat outside of personal time."

How does he know everything? Ah, well. I couldn't help a grin. "I promise I won't, sir."

"Good. Now shoo."

I bowed a little and trotted away, feeling much better. I need out. I need to get away from all of these people. The whiskey is calling. Jack Daniels? Nah. Captain Morgan rum sounds a lot better tonight. Maybe some of that Daisy peach wine that Jerry ordered accidentally. It actually tastes kind of good. I hate wine, though; it probably only tasted good because I'd fancied a margarita and it had been terrible. Yes, rum. I will have rum today.

Neatly side-stepping Bison's attempt to get in my way, I scurried out the door, down the hall, down the stairs, out on to the street.

Stars and a moon and a breeze.

I slowed my step and decided to walk instead of hail a cab. It's nearing midnight, anyway. I can spare a few hours.

For some reason, Samwise the Brave from LOTR: Two Towers went round and round in my head… and then The Uruk-Hai started up. I suppose it was an epic soundtrack kind of night. Too bad I don't have the CD… damn. Didn't I ask for it for Christmas? Doesn't matter. Get lost in the music, Kotetsu, just get lost, let go for a bit.

Random bits of songs floated in and out of my head, and eventually I just started humming randomly under my breath. Humming got me a long ways. The streets were deserted. Must be nice, being able to close your doors at dark for no reason other than because you don't want a draft.

It was around three in the morning when I arrived home. Home is good. I'm lucky to have one. I'm lucky to just have a HOUSE. I'm lucky to be here, alive, breathing… I'm lucky I've been holding out so long.

I turned on the radio, changed into my pajamas, and sang along.

"_You can be the peanut butter to my jelly, you can be the butterflies I feel in my belly,  
You can be the captain and I can be the first mate, you can be the chills that I feel on a first date;  
You can be the hero and I can be your sidekick, you can be the tears that I'll cry if we ever split,  
You can be the rain from the cloud when it's stormin', or you can be the sun that shines in the mornin',_

_Don't know if I could ever be, without you 'cause boy, you complete me,  
And in time I know that we'll both see, that we're all we need,  
'Cause you're the apple to my pie,  
You're the straw to my berry,  
You're the smoke to my high,  
And you're the one I wanna marry…"_

~~~\0/~~~

"_W-will you marry me?"_

_She stared. Then she laughed, snatched the ring, and kissed me. "Oh, you idiot! Of course I will! Why would I be angry at you for that?"_

_I didn't want to answer right away, so I kissed her again. "Because I got the job."_

_Her smile flickered; but then she brightened it. "So now I get to look into life insurance before I'm even thirty."_

"_I'll be careful!" I protested, affronted. "And I want to make sure Kaede has a real home and real parents."_

_She tucked my hair behind my ear. "So her name is Kaede?"_

_I couldn't help but place my hand on her belly, again. She was barely two months along, but… "Yes. And if she actually does turn out to be a son, you can name her."_

_She laughed again and put her hand over mine. "Deal. You silly male."_

"_Sensible female." Another kiss. "My ma or yours first?"_

"_Yours. She won't try to drape us in flowers and lace." She made a face and it was my turn to laugh. "Mama still doesn't get that lace just isn't practical. It's expensive, too. I'd much rather have a quiet wedding with just immediate family and best friends…" she took one look at my aghast expression and grinned. "…But if we must, I can invite all my cousins and the girls from my dorm. I am allowed to finish school while you go and get pounded by fellows much bigger than you, right?"_

"_Of course! SOMEONE had better be educated around here." So much contentment in the air, and relief that she wasn't angry, and joy that she'd accepted… I kissed her for much longer this time, and she didn't seem to mind._

~~~\0/~~~

"Married?!"

"Didn't you see the ring?"

"You coulda just asked me."

"Why? Going to school with a guy doesn't mean you know his relationship status."

"It does if he got married two years out of highschool."

"I can hear you, you know," I enlightened my coworkers irritably. They fell silent and avoided my gaze. Seriously, do they think I'm deaf just because I'm over thirty? And why do they always have to talk about me in public? Am I suddenly the only source of good gossip in the world? Hell, they were only about ten yards away! Even Origami Cyclone—hell, even Sky High had come together to discuss me.

I hate you all. I turned away and put a few more yards between myself and them, meeting Ben halfway. He glanced back at the others and frowned thunderously. "So suddenly you're the new golden boy of HeroTV gossip," he commented disapprovingly. I winced and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Yeah… can you make them shut up? It's annoying. And Bison won't stop spilling the beans on my private life."

"Rock Bison is an idiot, then," Ben agreed. "You're needed."

"By who?" I asked, surprised. He didn't answer. He just took my arm and dragged me away. I muttered some choice curses, but eventually shook him off and walked beside him, trying not to look too pissed off.

I felt a strange mix of relief and dread when I realized that I was being brought before Mr. Maverick. He stood before the official camera van with his hands behind his back and his normal control, commanding a respect that created a small bubble of calm around him. Agnes stayed back, though I knew she wanted dearly to hear me get chewed out. If I WAS going to get chewed out.

Maverick smiled at both of us. "Thank you, Mr. Jackson. May we have some privacy, please?"

Ben nodded and whisked himself away. The bubble expanded; now practically no one was around. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

Maverick's smile abruptly vanished, and his gaze sharpened. Shame filled me, and I didn't even know why. What have I done wrong?

"My nephew tells me you've been on speaking terms with him for some time," he broached finally. His voice was the coldest I've ever heard. It took me a minute, then I felt my entire body go cold.

"Oh… he's… YOUR nephew?" I got out in a strangled kind of voice. "He didn't… He never said..."

"Didn't he?" This seemed to make him thoughtful. "Hmm. He told me he's been speaking to Wild Tiger. Did he only know you by your given name?"

"Yeah… my number is apparently the one his parents used to have," I managed awkwardly, unsure what his reaction would be.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear that, for a minute there, his eyes flashed hostility of the kind that I've come to associate with criminals whose covers have just been blown, or angry drunks. But then he was only stern, and it was only scary instead of alarming. "He did not tell me this," he said softly. "He said you did not… do not know him?"

"He didn't tell me his name. And, well, obviously he didn't tell me that you're his uncle. Rock Bison has been… patrolling me for a while now." I'm pretty sure my annoyance showed for a few moments. "We haven't really spoken because of that."

"Mm. It was several weeks ago that I saw that his favorite contact was someone titled "Unapproachable". I see you did not know this?" he prodded, smiling a little. I rubbed my nose to hide my faint flush and shook my head. He continued, "Later, I discovered that the contact name had changed, quite suddenly, to "Kotetsu", which I recognized. When I asked, he admitted to being… familiar with you?"

"We've kinda been talking for about a year now." I was relaxing, which I knew was dangerous, but I couldn't help it. "We never really… well, he's seen ME," I muttered, remembering the failed rendezvous, "But we haven't had a face-to-face conversation." I wanted to add on a rebellious "Yet," but decided not to. He might fire me on the spot.

Instead, though, he watched me for a few minutes. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that I was dressed ridiculously and he was in a respectable suit. It's true, then; clothing dictates mood. When is he gonna let me leave?

"…I suggest you stop," he said finally, quietly. "He's been driven to distraction by his… familiarity with you, and it is bad for him, and for you. You'd best cut all contact."

I could only gape at him for a moment. "Cut all… I can't do that! Not just all of a sudden, out of the blue, "sorry, can't talk, your uncle said no and I'm a wuss", I've already had that argument with him! I've had that argument with TONY, for christ's sake! That's not right. And I've been TRYING not to distract him, but—"

I shut up then. Disappointment from Mr. Maverick? Oh, god, it's… is painful the right word? It's like when your parents catch you doing something against their rules, but instead of yelling they just look at you and it makes you want to cringe and slink away and cry in a corner. Only worse than that. But… but no. I'm not going to slink away. The stupid kid is my friend, my responsibility, and just because his uncle disapproves doesn't mean I can't keep on being his friend.

We were both silent for a long, long time. It takes a lot of nerve to look Maverick in the eye for longer than two seconds. I don't know how I managed it.

At the three minute mark, he sighed and looked at the tarmac for a moment, then up again. "You always were very stubborn," he ceded, and I felt a bit happier, because there was almost a, a _fondness_ in his tone that meant I wasn't _completely_ loathsome. "Give him a week. I will have him caught up by then, and you may continue your… I suppose friendship is the right word."

"Always seemed that way to me." I shrugged, but grinned. "Thanks, though. For not firing me on the spot."

He chuckled. "Ah, I can hardly fire you after all these years. Loyalty is rare enough these days. I'd hate to lose such an outstanding example."

Mr. Maverick has a way of making everyone feel better about themselves, without reminding them of their inadequacies. Maybe that's why he's been in control for so long.

All I know is, I was much happier than I expected to be.

~~~\0/~~~

"Well, ye look much better this day," Mary remarked with approval.

I grinned. "My boss's boss is a great guy, that's all. I get a vacation day tomorrow. I'll probably spend it sitting around trying not to cry with joy."

"Lucky," my other new buddy, the European, Petra, mumbled into his gin. I'm worried about him. He's nearing sixty and is addicted to gin. Pretty soon he'll be at the mercy of Blue Ruin and the streets. I felt terrible for mentioning my luck in front of him.

"Well, probably it'll be cut short," I amended, half-apologizing, half-defensive. "Even orders from the CEO can be overridden. But finally, a couple hours of peace and quiet…" The concept was too marvelous not to mention. I'll finally be able to relax, knowing that I won't be called at all that day. "It's probably just to get me out of everyone else's way, so I won't be there pissing everyone off and making them gossip constantly. They're getting worse."

"What'd they dig up this time?" Jerry asked, handing me a refill of my beer. He's a good guy. In fact, everyone is good. The world is good. I should probably lay off the ale.

"That I'm married." I hid a burp in the crook of my arm. "That damn bastard Tony told them about how I met my wife, and they blew up. ALL of them. Even that blond dickface, whatsisname, Keith. Don't matter though, does it?" Tomoe, Tomoe, I remember you, ah, I remember you… "Their opinions don't matter."

"Not at all," Mary agreed. Petra grunted.

I was obscenely cheerful, and that made Petra angrier, so eventually I apologized by buying two rounds for the three of us. That made him feel a little better, and eventually I teased the details of the day from both Mary and Petra, and he was almost as happy as me. Mary was simply satisfied. I suppose she'd taken us under her wing so that she could make sure we got better a little.

At one, Jerry threw us all out with a laugh and a final round for the entire bar. Everyone cheered, and we filed out in an orderly mass. The night was a good one; warm, clearer than normal, and quiet. Well, except for all of us bar-goers emerging like butterflies into the night, a lot bursting into spontaneous song. I parted with Mary and Petra fairly soon, and wandered my happy, hammered way back home.

~~~\0/~~~

"Hey, mister. Are you alive?"

"Hmm?" I tipped my hat up a little and squinted through the sun up at the three small children surrounding me. "Oh. Yeah. Why? Am I in your way or something?"

"Mama said you look like you died of alcohol poisoning," the tallest child (a girl) recited, obviously proud of the term. They were all barely above five years old. "Are you died?"

I grinned. "No. I was drunk last night, but I'm not now. Shouldn't you be running around being silly and normal?"

"Why are you lying in the park if you aren't died?" asked the shortest (a boy).

"Because the park is nice. It's sunny, quiet, and the grass is comfy." Because I'd passed out here instead of at home, in bed. I pulled my hat back down as far as it would go. "Now go away, please. I need my nap."

"Nana said I need a nap, too," the middle child (also a boy) announced, and I felt rather than heard him plop down a little ways to my left. "I like the park, too."

The other two arrayed themselves around me as well. "Is being died the same as napping?" asked the girl. "Only you never wake up? That's what mama said."

"Your mama is right. But don't worry, you'll all wake up for a long time. You're not old yet. Not like me."

"The sun makes me tired," the littlest boy mumbled. He was closest to me. I couldn't help a smile.

"The sun is happy today. That's why it's so nice out."

"I like being happy," the little boy commented.

"Me too," added the middle boy.

"Happy is good," the tall girl said with finality.

"Happy is very good," I agreed softly.

We were all quiet for a while. Then I heard a little snore; the middle boy was asleep. The other two were, as well. Little kids get tired so easily… and so trusting. Their mamas would probably be very angry. But the sun was happy, the park was quiet, the grass was comfy, and sleep is such a beautiful thing.

I hope I wake up again.

~~~\0/~~~

"ROXIE! What are you doing?!"

"Napping," the girl mumbled. Then I heard her yelp. I tipped my hat up and saw a woman who was most definitely her mother brushing the grass off her dress quite violently, and the two boys scrambling to their feet. The woman was scolding Roxie, but when she saw I was awake, she gave me such a glare that my face should probably have been scoured off.

"And YOU! Who do you think you are, luring my children off like that? You should be ASHAMED of yourself!"

"With respect, ma'am, I think I'm a person, and it's not luring if they come and pester me first," I told her, not even bothering to be offended. "If you have time to wander off from your children and claim I "lured" them, you have time to realize that children aren't exactly the suspicious type. I've got a daughter of my own; she was the same way. Except HER ma took proper care of her when they were in public." I grinned at her aghast expression, as the children giggled. Ahh, old enough to recognize when their mother is insulted, but young enough to laugh instead of be afraid.

"Also, if you ask, you'll find out that all I did was explain why I'm not died." My grin grew as she became more bewildered than anyone I've ever known. "It was them as decided to admire the sun with me."

"The sun is happy today, mama," the girl explained to her mother. "And you said we needed naps, anyway, so we napped here."

"Naps are very beneficial," I explained to her mother gravely.

The littlest boy tugged her hand. "Nana, can we go get ice cream now?"


	4. Chapter 4

A week is a very long period of time. Each day is a battle, as you struggle to get through and—wait, it's Friday? Oh. Never mind.

That's what my week was like. Somehow, Dragon Kid teased some more info about my highschool days out of me; and soon the entire world knew that Wild Tiger used to be the kind of delinquent who beats up other delinquents because he doesn't like what they're doing, namely, being delinquents.

I was terribly against smoking (still am), I broke shoplifter's fingers (not the thumb, though; don't want to lame them), I put some guys in the hospital for robbing a house, I put a guy in ICU for arson, mugging led to broken noses and legs (and paying for the victim's hospital bills), and the kidnapping of a fellow classmate meant that I, Rock Bison, and about ten or fifteen of our cronies took on a gang of forty-seven, led by three NEXT… and won.

"Holy shit," a reporter whispered as he stared at me in awe. I currently had my fingers in my ears and was humming loudly so I wouldn't have to hear Tony explain my vigilante days. Patrolling a small neighborhood is not the same as being told what to do on camera. (If I had it my way, I'd get someone to clone me several times over and find a magical pill that made it unnecessary to sleep, and then I'd quit my job and subsist totally on the grateful donations of those who cared.) Why does it matter what I did on small scale? Although, I admit, I was also rather impressed with myself when the doctors proclaimed that the arsonist would need a month in ICU.

And then people started laughing at me even worse.

I'd gone from losing my temper and breaking people's fingers to losing my temper and breaking walls. That was apparently a step down. It was also apparently a bad thing that I no longer "had the stomach" to put people in the hospital. Didn't they realize that if I did that, they'd call me a violent brute and want me thrown out of the lineup?

No. Better to be a laughingstock than a criminal. At least I still managed to scrounge some points once in a while. And I wasn't drinking as much as usual. Because I couldn't find the energy to push through my cloud of humiliation and actually drink. Several times, Petra and I burst into tears and had to put our arms around each other's shoulders to stay on the stools. Mary was very kind and hugged us and bought us drinks and lent us handkerchiefs.

I claimed the bike-corner for myself for a whole day. Blue Rose huffed and stalked away after she realized I wasn't going to leave. Fire Emblem checked on me about five times, and he looked more and more worried each time. Tony came into my bubble long enough to give me a sandwich from my favorite pub. I took this for an apology and devoured it then and there. Food is better than beer in the quest to make me happy again.

But for the most part, I curled up with my back to the wall and tried not to boil over with rage. I hate you all. I hate you I hate you I hate you. And hate isn't nearly a strong enough word for the loathing, the absolute revulsion that fills me at times, violent abhorrence to the world, to the existence of the people around me, so much hate and rage that I scare myself.

And then I think of the things that once were, things that could've been… and then I feel so much sorrow that I can't stop the tears from cascading down my cheeks to stain my shirt and mark me as a crybaby and a terrible person and a weak old man.

I don't cry in costume, though. I can't. Loyalty, right? Crying marks me as a disintegrating, my character is dissolving, and soon I'll be empty of all good qualities. I have to show myself as strong and merely annoyed, instead of weak-kneed and furious.

Some days, I wanted to go back to the old ways and break a few bones, go back and hurt someone because they were wrong and I was angry. Some days, I resented being a hero. Some days, the police force began to look like a better choice.

The letter of resignation on my fridge became a tumor on my brain. Always there, and eventually... it'll kill me.

~~~\0/~~~

"_Don't."_

"Don't what? Resign?"

"_Yes. Do not give up. Just because you have an interesting past that is being dug up by hyenas doesn't mean you should give in to their pressures and let them scare you away from your life's work."_

"I'm not going to give in. I'm going to quit. That's different."

"_Damn you, Kotetsu, a week without you and I find you've completely folded?! No! I know you better than that. Stand up to them. You're a hero, aren't you?"_

_You saved me; that makes you a hero, too._

"Yes… I guess so."

_Promise me you won't give up._

"_Well, then, don't let them make you into just a normal person. Being a hero is good. You know that better than I do."_

You believe that. You really believe that. You… you idiot. You stupid, moronic, idiotic, ridiculous, insane little… "Ha! Ain't that the truth. No… I'll stay. I'll… I'll keep on this. I promise." This is the only promise I can keep. I promise…

~~~\0/~~~

"Hey, old man, didja break any legs lately?"

"Yah, how about some fingers? I heard that's your favorite."

You always get hecklers at scenes. I ignored the current ones and went straight for Ben. I don't want to lose my temper, and that's a stupid subject anyway, so why give them the satisfaction of my attention? No… best to just walk away.

A rock hit my shoulder. I hesitated, then kept going. Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Just…

Another hit my hip. The back of my head. The small of my back. My knee. Aren't I out of their range, yet? Apparently not, I decided, resigned, as another piece of smashed wall slammed the side of my head. It's alright, though, I'm almost to the group—

Someone tackled me to the ground, and someone else knelt on my chest and raised their fist to hit me. I caught the punch, retaliated with a nice sock to the jaw that made him reel and fall off, and rolled to my feet, only to be kicked down again by his buddy. My left foot shot out instinctively and hit the guy in the balls. He grunted and stumbled, but still kicked my diaphragm hard enough that I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. The first guy pounced; I broke his nose and made it to my feet, getting some distance between me and them.

I hate brawling in public. I like knocking people down and putting some fear into them, but I don't like people watching me fighting dirty. Fortunately, the two hooligans only feinted, and I couldn't help it, I laughed. "What, are you actually scared of me? Well, that hasn't happened in a couple decades. Still want to fight?"

The one with the broken balls snarled and ran. The one with the broken nose charged. It was pitifully easy to dodge him, and a nice rabbit-punch between his shoulder blades made him gasp and fall. Wow. Guess I should reinvigorate the old vigilante group. Thom probably has about seven hundred kids (Catholic and with a family history of clan-creating), and Sakura is most certainly too fat to run for any distance. Poor guy eats too much. Great cook, though.

The others? Eh… they weren't quite cohesive enough to form a group, not at our age. They probably learned teamwork with their cube-mates, but…

My thoughts were interrupted when Broken-Balls grabbed me from behind to hold me steady as Broken-Nose stumbled upright and rotated his shoulder, getting ready for another hit. Thankfully, my senpai from highschool (who had memorized every dirty trick in the book and invented about ten hundred more) had taught me how to break people's holds. I stomped really hard on Balls' toe and he actually SQUEALED as he let go. (No, seriously. If you stomp hard enough, the nail either splits, jams down into the toe, or both, and it is entirely possible to break what little bone there is accessible. I think I dislocated this guy's toe-knuckle, which is painful and really hard to do when you're being held and have to hit backwards.) I dropped to a crouch, rolled, and watched as Nose slammed his fist into Balls' face, and couldn't help but grin as they both howled. Punching faces actually hurts really bad. I have a lot of calluses and I'm used to the pain of bruising bones, mine and other people's.

Ha. Newbies.

I stood up and dusted myself off, taking inventory. Hey! No broken bones! Lucky day! My head hurt a little, but that was normal, and there was a cut from rolling around on rough terrain. It was shallow and on my left side, so it wasn't really anything to worry about.

Balls came at me again, but in a limping shamble that made me want to pat him on the head, give him a lollipop, and send him on his way. He was still fast, though, and I barely had time to block him, let alone slam my heel into his leg, right where the thigh muscle runs into the kneecap. I managed, though, and though it made me unbalance a little, it made him bellow and fall into Nose's arms, toppling HIM, too.

I waited, but they didn't leap to their feet. They just kind of twitched, groaning. Nose, I didn't understand; a couple hits to the face shouldn't put you down like that. He was probably the newbie. Balls was a bit less ballsy than I had anticipated. They weren't very good fighters. And… good god, they were only kids. Barely eighteen, though rather burly. Were they out to prove something?

Strangely, though I knew they were probably hurting very badly, I just didn't care. I suppose a nice rousing fight was what I had needed, and I felt much better for it. I crouched beside them and waited until they both looked at me, and grinned. "Well, then. I'm sorry I hit you so hard, but I don't like being hit by rocks thrown by inexperienced little kids. How about, we meet at the park at sundown, and have a nice little brawl, ne? I promise not to come as Wild Tiger. I'll just be a civilian, like you, only more experienced. Eh? How about it?"

Nose shook his head, hard. Balls had quite a nice look of terror on his face, and I sighed and put on my best disappointed puppy face.

"Oh, alright. You should probably go to the doctor, though, for your nose. And you should get your toe looked at, if it doesn't pop back soon," I advised Balls, who whimpered. That made me angry. "What? Oh, come on! I'm not gonna kill ya. I'm trying to be nice here. You hit me first; law of the streets, you hit first, you open yourself for retaliation. Do you two even have anyone to back you?"

Nose shook his head. This seemed to be the only motion he was capable of producing. I sighed. This wasn't a very good situation. "You're barely more than kids. Don't think that, just because I don't break bones on tv, I don't remember how. Hell, one of my old friends from back in the day could take you out with two hits, and he's the definition of a butterball."

They were petrified with terror. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "Look… you should know better. Don't just jump someone because you heard they're weak. Oftentimes, we're not." I stood up, frowning a little when they flinched. "Get that nose looked at."

I turned and started walking away, when someone yelled, "Aww, come on! Knock 'em out! Ya can't be done yet!"

"Yeah!" someone else cried, "Do it again! Do it again!"

I looked up, surprised, and saw a small cluster of people, a lot of them with cameras, staring at me and the boys. The boys scrambled to their feet as fast as they could (which wasn't very) and scurried in the opposite direction of me (which was the way to the ever-present ambulance). I started walking again.

The cluster began to move as one towards me, and this was so startling that I shied away from them, and started walking faster. I don't want to be on camera. At the height of my infamy, my fight with a couple inexperienced kids was caught on film? Nooo thank you. I will just be going home now, thank you very much—

No hope there. They swarmed like bees, surrounding me in seconds. This was not good. This was so not good.

"Man, that was awesome!" one camera-man whooped, pressing closer. I tried to ward him off, but he was an expert at dodging avoidance techniques. "Where did you learn all that?"

"'All that'?" I repeated, stunned. Then I got annoyed. "That? That wasn't anything. That was two idiots who didn't know how to fight. That was barely a ten minute thing, how is it special?"

"Because you haven't actually fought people in public," another boy explained excitedly. "Wow! Did you break that guy's nose? There was blood EVERYWHERE!"

"Not everywhere," I snapped uncomfortably. "Just on his face. And his shirt. But not everywhere."

"And that other guy's foot! Did you break it?"

"No, I just hit his toe really bad. I think it dislocated, but probably not."

"Duuuuuude!"

The group of boys (for it was, indeed, a group of boys, with only three guys over twenty-five in the mix) bombarded me with questions, and I found myself denying their enthusiasm, explaining that my form had been bad, anyway, and since I hadn't actually broken anything besides a nose, it wasn't quite as good a fight as they thought it had been, and THEY had had terrible form, too, and when one boy challenged me on that, I explained in great detail what all three of us had done wrong. I, ah… kind of forgot about the cameras.

By the time Ben had extracted me from the huddle, seven boys had made me promise to show them how to punch someone's nose in and do the knee-kicking thing, eight had decided I was their new favorite hero, and three had forced me into agreeing to give them lessons on everything I knew, starting with the "Foot Thing" as they called it.

Note to self: explain that there are several "Foot Things" and teach them only the least lethal.

"Having fun?" Ben asked dryly, and I realized I was grinning. I tried to stop.

"They're like the guys back home, that's all. When we first started up. I was the only one who knew how to fight, so…" I shrugged and rubbed the smile off my face. "Plus they weren't calling me old and weak, so that was a nice bonus."

"Mm hm," was all he said.

The HeroTV episode that night had bonus footage of my tussle (including the rock throwing and the opening tackle), and then the clearest and most focused video out of the crowd of electronics, of my explanation to the pack about how it went wrong and how it would have gone if it had been done right, and how the conversation steamrolled right into me debunking their scrambled stories and wild rumours of miracle moves and promising, in a startled and automatic way, to teach some of the boys.

The voice-over talked about my brutality, but that was obviously scripted, because there were some ad-libbed bits where, in an admiring kind of way, he talked about my efficiency and the clarity of my elucidation.

I went to bed very happy with myself.

~~~\0/~~~

"We'd better make it a mini-series or something," Agnes sighed.

I stared at her. "…What?"

"Your "lessons", dimwit," she snapped. "People are interested. We should film it."

"Some of the boys already asked if they could bring their cameras," I informed her, "So YOU don't have to send in the HeroTV guys. Just ask for copies of the footage."

"But this is OUR jurisdiction," she countered, "Which means WE have to do the filming. Amateur footage on Nikons won't work."

"They're professional film crew. They're bringing their professional equipment. And they've sworn on pain of death not to sell any of it. Mostly because I'm a terrible teacher," I added in a mutter. "They'll get bored and wander off."

"Riiiight," she drawled, and shoved me out the door.

For this exercise, I'd changed out of my suit and into some knife-torn jeans (they still fit! Hallelujah!) and my favorite old t-shirt, the black one with a vaguely rusty outline from when I used it to stop up a birdshot wound. It showed off the long scar from a knife-fight that still made a shiny slash down my bicep, and another scar that… no. Let's not talk about that one. I hoped I didn't look like I was trying too hard. They were just really comfy, and they reminded me of back in the day.

There were ten of them, ranging from about seventeen to twenty-seven. Ten too many. I sighed and told myself to think about my guys from school. They'd been idiots, but willing to learn. These guys didn't look like idiots, but their enthusiasm would be comparatively shorter-lived.

"Alright," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "You sure you still want me to teach you?"

"Yes," the seventeen-year-old chirruped, before anyone else could speak. There was a round of enthusiastic nods and murmured yeses. I bit the inside of my cheek for luck (an old habit that I thought I'd grown out of) and plunged in.

"Well, first, you hafta know the basics. You first." I pointed to the kid who'd spoken up, who practically bounced up to me. "What's your name, soldier?"

He gave me a perfect salute. "Thomas, sir."

"Don't call me sir, it makes me feel old. Make a fist for me, Tommy."

He did so. I shook my head and rearranged it. "Keep your thumb behind your fingers. Make sure you're not too tight, or you'll break your knuckle on the first jaw you hit. Like that. Now put up your dukes."

That went better. I tweaked his elbows and nodded. "Yup. That's good. How about you?" I pointed to another kid. He immediately copied Tommy, to perfection. I felt myself start to grin. "Good. What's your name?"

"John, sir."

"Don't tense up so much. The wrong muscles will twitch when you go for it, and the right ones won't be ready because you're using EVERY muscle instead of making sure which group will be best for the type of hit you're going for. And you?"

They all got it fairly easily, which gave me hope. They positioned their feet well, too, and one, who happened to be a boxer, showed us all how HIS coach had taught him, which was good if you were a boxer and were only going to use your fists, but if you're in a bar, I pointed out to all of them, there isn't enough room to squeeze through and hop out of the way, and fist-fights in a bar are guaranteed to drag in more combatants.

We got through a lot before Agnes arrived to banish the kids (who threatened to come back tomorrow and laughed as I faked terror) and drag me back to the main cluster of trailers.

The only set time and place any of us could count on was the aftermath of another call. This was annoying and, I knew from experience, exhausting. I bolstered myself with the hope that this would somehow help with my endurance. Probably not, but hey.

It was Wednesday. Three more days.

~~~\0/~~~

"Enjoy yourself, old man?"

I'd decided to wear my comfies again, so I felt good enough to grin up at Blue Rose. "Immensely. Do you want to join us? You wouldn't have to use Cutey Escape so often."

She wrinkled her nose at me. "Um, how 'bout not?"

"Fine with me." I shrugged and finished tying my shoes. "The boys would be happy to have you around, but then again, they're boys." I levered myself to my feet and grinned again. "They'd also be happy for an audience, so why not bring some of your girlfriends to cheer 'em on, ne?"

Her glare was colder than her ice, so I shrugged again and wandered to the punching bag, wondering if Mr. Maverick would let me bring the boys here, so we wouldn't have to have everyone in the world watching. Probably not. Tommy would spend too much time ogling Blue Rose to pay attention, and Richie would sneak glances at everyone's butts. It was only a matter of time before he was thrown out by popular demand. In the mean time, he was very good at kicking through the boards that Kevin's dad gave us for practicing.

Jeremy said his mother worked at a sandbag factory, and that she could probably sneak us two or three to use as punching bags. That would be a wonderful addition.

I stared at the red leather cylinder for a moment, thinking. I imagined it was one of the bad guys from my youth; Ping, an opium pusher barely out of eighth grade. His big brother Chan was an all-around great guy. But Ping…

My fist made a satisfying _thmp _against the bag, and the bag made a satisfying clang and crash as it flew off its hook and banged into the wall, spilling sand and splitting at the seam. I smiled and moved on to the next one. A roundhouse kick sent it flying, and the next one sailed through the air with the help of three jabs in rapid succession, ending with the right straight that made me very happy.

Punching through sandbags is easier than punching through solid cement-block walls.

There are five bags in the training room. After I killed them, I moved on to the weight machines, and had a lot of fun putting on so much weight the machines groaned. I'd forgotten how much of me still worked. And the Hundred Power… when I used it, did it work like steroids? Without shrinking my balls? When I used my power, did it work with the natural process of strengthening by utilizing? Am I strong because I use every part of me, all the time, and I have a power that increases all of my body's functions times a hundred? Hmm. I should probably find out.

"Oy, don't hurt yourself old man," Tony warned me, amused, as I bench-pressed roughly 950 pounds. "What got you moving so much today?"

"I've made a great discovery," I grunted, dropping the bar down on its supports. I grinned when I had my breath back and sat up, feeling the twinge of pain in my abdominals that I hadn't felt in years. And my shoulders hurt. But it was clean hurt, healthy hurt, and I liked it. "Did you see the punching bags?"

"Yes, that's why I came to find you." He sat on the other bench and eyed me with surprise. "You're barely sweating."

"That's my discovery." I stood up, rotating my shoulders. "I'm not as frail as I thought. This is just plain AWESOME."

"Just plain weird, you mean," he muttered. "Cyclone was scared your heart was gonna burst. Are you going to do some sprinting?"

"Oh, god no." I sat again with a wince and stretched out my legs, watching my toes. "I'm not THAT excited. No… I'm wondering how I can work this. I don't think I even need my power, not for small stuff. It makes it way easier, sure, but… maybe that's part of the reason I break stuff so often," I mused, squirming until I could sit cross-legged on the very thin bench (which took a LOT of squirming). "I keep going over the top, and yes, I know that's what people have been telling me for years, but now I think I know why."

"Because you're too into it?" Tony suggested, and I threw a five-pound weight at him.

"No, you asshole, because I've been thinking I need to go over the top, or I'll fall short. But I guess that doesn't matter. Better to fall short and try again than to go too far and never come back," I murmured to myself, and grinned. "I should write that down. That can be a whole new segment; after every episode, we can have Corny Sayings by Wild Tiger. Think anyone would care?"

"They would probably use it as a further excuse to advocate throwing you out on the street."

"True."

"…You're happy."

"I like teaching," I admitted reluctantly. "Well, teaching how to kick someone correctly, at least. And they're good kids. And I'm tired, and I didn't drink last night, and I had a real breakfast."

"Cupcake and multi-vitamin?" he asked, grinning as I stuck my tongue out at him. "I didn't know you could still fit in those."

"Isn't it great?" I agreed, worrying at a slash in my jeans over my knee. "I'm still size ten!"

"And short."

Another five-pound zoomed right by his ear, and he ducked with a laugh.

Why am I so… happy? No, content. I am content with my life. This is strange. Well, I'm content right now. Tomorrow I'll be back to trying not to kill myself. But today? Today, right now, I am okay with this.

Burying myself in memories makes me feel better. Once upon a time, I was happy. I had reasons to be happy. Maybe… I can make some reasons?

I have drinking-buddies. People are paying attention to me. I have my gang back, sort of; I have people to teach the art of Brawling to. I still fit in my old clothes. I have the ability to be happy. I can still be happy; when did this happen?

I fixed the punching bags and promptly destroyed them again. I did all the machines twice over. I took a water break among the bikes, which turned into a nap. Two hours later, I woke up very stiff. Thus, I went through the routine to loosen up, only with less weights and less reps. I napped again, this time for four hours. Then I went home and slept for twelve.

Yeah… I'll stick to using my power when I start to feel tired.

~~~\0/~~~

"Good! One more time. Then we can move on."

They have too much enthusiasm, I'll give them that. I've noticed a few girls watching them, especially Kevin and Robin, and a few older men, too. The girls watched with hunger and interest, the men with envy. I thought some of them might be watching me, but that was probably just my imagination.

I found myself humming "Just My Imagination" under my breath as I showed them how to break an instep. I'd expected some of them to give up; they'd only swelled to eighteen students, and we'd managed to learn to congregate at an abandoned parking lot near the west end around six every morning. That had cut down on students for barely an hour; then locals started wandering by, and a couple of THEM liked the idea of training with me, and they had experience. I enlisted them as my assistants, gratefully. There were too many students for individual attention, and I hate having to favor people.

When I set them all to attempting to kill one another, I felt a tug on my pant leg. I looked down, surprised, to see a little brown girl, possibly Puerto Rican, about eight years old, who stared up at me and said quite clearly, "Can I step on people too?"

I couldn't help smiling. "Sure! Is your ma okay with that?"

"Don't have one," she informed me matter-of-factly. "And daddy drinks. That's why I want to step on people."

"Alright, let's see which of these idiots won't mind letting you stomp them." I held out my hand and she took it gravely, and pretty soon we had a whole 'nother class, just for kids. And then I realized I wasn't needed. But when I tried to slide out gracefully, I was immediately grabbed up again by some thugs who demanded I show them how to lay someone out with minimal fuss. Hey, they were bigger than me. And the police have guns, and since half the neighborhood was congregating here already…

The classes kept getting bigger. I couldn't tell you why. It was a complete mystery to me, but not, apparently, to any of my new students. We'd become something to do. If you were bored, go down to the impromptu fight school and learn how to break hands.

I didn't notice four weeks had already gone by until Benny called me, and he seemed rather upset. I excused myself from the group of older folk who were practicing ways to deter attackers that wouldn't break their spines (the old people, I mean; I honestly don't care what happens to the attackers), and hid in a corner of the courtyard where I could watch everyone and still talk. The various shouting matches and drill-sergeant bellowing and shrieks of pain and triumph made it hard to hear, but that was just life. It's like this in parts of Oriental Town, all day, every day. I'm used to it.

"Yo, Benny! Sorry I didn't call, I've been teaching people how to—"

"_Yes, yes, I know, you've been teaching people to kill each other, but I've been waiting for three weeks now, and you haven't even texted me or anything!"_

His tone of voice reminded me of the stereotypical woman; whiny, needy, and jealous. But no, most women are not like that. Most women are worried, not jealous. But he definitely sounded distraught, at the very least. I frowned and contemplated yelling at him, but no, that would make him angrier.

"I'm sorry, but I've been distracted. It's hard to talk on the phone when—hold on a second. Yeah?" I addressed the older woman who tottered up to me.

"We're done with our drills, and it's almost time for Bingo," she informed me. "We're going now."

"Okay." I grinned at the thought of my people brawling over the prizes. "Good luck!"

She grinned back, showing rotted teeth, and went off with her brood. I swear, she's old enough to be the great-grandmother of all the other older people here. I shook my head and sighed, then turned back to Benny.

"Sorry about that. I don't know why they still come to me, honest. I'm not very good, anyway."

"_Then why don't you just leave?" _he grumped. Yeah, he was jealous. _"If they don't need you, don't be there."_

"I can't just leave, they won't let me! I've tried at least seven times, someone always stops me. They've posted sentries or something; I'm not even allowed a water break without one of the kids asking me to show them how to step on people the right way again. A lot of people get bored and only come when they feel like it, but there's so many of them that come every day… it's scary." Then I thought of something. "Hey… you can come work with us, too. What does the Academy teach you in the way of fighting?"

"_The bare basics. I'm a black belt in at least three schools of martial arts, but that was all outside of school. I know how to break necks with Tiger Crane technique, but I'm useless in the kind of fighting you get into." _He paused, then went on, in a hopeful kind of voice, _"Are you… would you really… can I?"_

"Can you come over?" I supplied, surprised. "Of course! No one ever said rich kids can't get some schooling in the ways of normal people." I noticed that several people overheard, and most of them smirked. "Just don't brag, wear something not all pretty and starched and expensive, and bring an open mind. We do everything from modified mugging techniques to Black Ops methods here."

"…_When and where?"_

I told him, he agreed, I went back into the mass and inspected each pod. My assistants were doing fabulously, and there was a noticeable difference between the vets and the newbies. Good! We're improving.

I knew I shouldn't be teaching possible criminals the secrets of small-town deviance, but hell, if it kept them from trying to break my neck just for being on the right side of the law, I was all for it. I've still got plenty of tricks; and they didn't seem to realize that they were teaching me theirs.

Mmm, how I love the joy in the faces of those who've mastered a technique. It's like mead; all thick and heady and makes me happy. You know how there are people who get off on other people's pain? I can't help but smile when people are happy. That's why I'm a hero; to keep people safe, so they can be happy.

And I love it when barriers break; you see, right there, a man with hard eyes and a tattoo of a flaming sword on his jaw is teaching a five-year-old boy how to punch properly, and a seven-year-old girl is teaching a burly, six-foot-six man who looks like a Viking how to make proper mudpies quickly and throw them in people's faces. And two women, obviously prostitutes, have ganged up on a man in a purple velvet suit to use him as a practice dummy for slapping back. Their pimp? Or just a really unlucky guy? Well, with that color purple and those lacy, flouncy cuffs, and that gold-tipped cane, he really IS unlucky, at least when it comes to fashion sense.

Dammit, Fire Emblem, how dare you explain how to tell if a color is wrong for a person!

~~~\0/~~~

Then it all fell apart.

The police did a raid, and arrested half our people. A lawyer came with a bevy of bodyguards to evict us, saying the lot belonged to some rich business man who didn't care.

No gym wanted us.

We couldn't find another area that wasn't full of bullets and drive-bys. The parents started locking their children in the house, calling me a bad influence for teaching them how to survive.

My original group disbanded out of shame.

The other heroes came one day when I was holding a conference with the last dregs and hauled me away, back to the official training room, which was too shiny and enclosed after all that time outside in the dirt.

Mr. Maverick explained, very gently, that allowing criminals to hone their skills wasn't very hero-like, and I was an idiot if I thought I was "helping" anyone (he didn't expressly call me an idiot, but that was what it boiled down to). When I tried to retaliate, he talked over me, still in that calm, soothing voice, and told me that if I continued such activities, it was in his power to expel me from the hero lineup. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he'd been smirking.

I didn't know better.

The bastard was ENJOYING this.

I ripped up the resignation letter as soon as I got home and burned it on the gas stove, then drank an entire six-pack of canned beer. Ma called, worried; I explained to her that Mr. Maverick was an asshole and I didn't give a single goddamn flying fuck what the media said about me, they were WRONG and they were all slobbering hyenas that could go get eaten by rabid woodchucks for all I cared.

Kaede was on the line long enough to be upset by my anger, which wasn't very long, and though I knew it was probably worry, I suspected she was just horrified that this was what happened when I drank too much. Yeah, well, this is why you live with your grandmother. I'm a mess and I'm not fit to be a parent. I think I actually said that, which is what made her yell at me for being mean and drop the handset to run crying to her room. Ma gave me a lecture and I retorted by pointing out that it was the truth and she was certainly goddamn old enough for it.

I think it was the revelation that Maverick was no maverick, just an old man in a suit who liked telling me why I was wrong, that broke something. He's not what he tried to tell me he was; no, not what he MADE me think he was. My solution to everything (drink it down or wait it out) did not work. I might have cried when I went to bed, that last day. Might.

~~~\0/~~~

I liked how they all got out of my way. Even Sky High.

I couldn't bear to look out the window. I didn't want to sit and do nothing. None of the activities presented in the training center looked interesting, or evoked memories that made me cringe. I wanted to break something. Possibly someone's face. No, no, I mustn't kill my coworkers; but god, it was tempting, so tempting…

There was a huge flatscreen tv, though. And it had a remote. And a Playstation.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

Origami Cyclone grinned as he shot me full of holes. "How long has it been since you played Duke Nukem competitive mode?"

"Years," I ground out, shooting desperately and trying in vain to snatch another medipack. "Shit shit shit Mori was never this hard to play against! You videogame nerd!"

"Technically, I'm a videogame addict," he corrected me, never taking his eyes off the screen. "Oops. Replay?"

"No." I got up and unplugged the PS, making him groan pitifully. "Call of Duty. I'm good at that one."

"Not as good as me," Origami predicted smugly.

I lost my temper after eight rounds. However, at least I lost it with a videogame, instead of a person. So that was constructive. It's better to pound on the floor than someone's head, though I was sorely tempted to brain the little asshole with the controller. He only yelped when his health was at an eighth full; then he used his cheat codes and full-health'd until I threw the controller and broke it. Then he promised not to use the cheats. He still won.

We had collected everyone in a neat little crowd, and they had taken over the couch that Origami and I technically should've been using. The floor had swallowed us, though, and Origami lay on his stomach with his feet in the air, as teenagers will do (though I think he's about eighteen now), while I simply sat and strained and tried to make sure I was watching the right part of the screen. They were silent as I shouted and he whooped. It was creepy. But I wasn't the one to lose patience; Origami paused the game and rolled over on his back to glare at the others.

"Do you mind?" he snapped. "It's kind of creepy when you're just staring like dead animals."

"Ooh, nice analogy," I congratulated him, unpausing and shooting him to death. He tapped in a cheat without even looking and was instantly resurrected.

"The old man is an interesting show," Fire Emblem commented. "That's all."

"It'd be way less creepy if you were all cheering or booing, whichever you choose; then at least I'll know what's staring a hole into the back of my head. DAMN IT, ORIGAMI, LET ME KILL YOU JUST ONCE!"

"Okay, okay, fine, be a little kid, ya dork," he grumbled, rolling back on his stomach. "We should play Brawl. I am a god with Kirby."

"Pit and I are besties," I countered, growling as the replay menu popped up again. "Mr. Game-and-Watch is my favorite, though."

"Game-and-Watch is HARD!" Origami complained. "I never know the right combos for him; I like his moves, but they're impossible."

"What! Game-and-Watch is fun BECAUSE he's hard! I like Luigi, too, though."

"Never play Mario," he advised wisely.

"Never play Mario," I agreed gravely.

This exchange resulted in me winning the round, which called for a little jig that made everyone laugh (and I couldn't tell if it was good laughter or bad). There are so many games and consoles; I think it just started with the Wii and the Kinect, but Origami has been surreptitiously adding to the collection. I kicked his pink Kirby ass with Game-and-Watch, then we did a face-off with two Pits. I won that. I'm better at spamming.

Then Sky High joined in with King DeDeDe, and I chose G&W (again), with Origami as Kirby (predictably). Then Tony jumped in. He wanted Captain Falcon. Dragon Kid plopped down beside Origami quite suddenly and chose Link. Fire Emblem claimed Ganondorf (he'd obviously never played before). Blue Rose was Sheik/Princess Zelda (she chose well). The tournament ended with me as the winner. I did another jig.

We did teams, then, and, wonder of wonders, Blue Rose chose to be on the same team as me, Tony, and Fire Emblem. Which was good, because Sky High was passable, Dragon Kid was excellent, and Origami was, as he'd claimed, a god. Having another good player on my team made me feel much safer. Plus, I chose the characters for Tony and Emblem, over their protests. Hey, you gonna join my team, you gonna play my rules.

We lost, of course, but the second time around we won. Tony did the jig with me. Emblem kissed Origami's cheek in condolence, for there were tears on his face and whimpers in his throat. He'd been the first to go down.

The life-count was lowered to one. All additional objects were eliminated except for the Super Ball. I was the last one standing.

Agnes and Mr. Maverick walked in right at the moment when I whooped with glee and Origami burst into tears. I, ah, I guess he wasn't used to losing at videogames. Dragon Kid consoled him as the rest of us looked up with sheepish faces.

Mr. Maverick took it all in at a glance, and amusement filled his features. Agnes was confused, and thus angry.

"Why are you playing videogames?" she snapped, glaring at us all. "Shouldn't you be doing normal things like, oh, I don't know, practicing for when you go out and earn some points?"

"We're learning tactics," Rose mimicked. I'd told her that to assuage her doubts not three minutes before. "We're learning to adapt to the situation and select the most efficient course of action."

"Well put," I congratulated her, trying not to look smug. Sky frowned at us disapprovingly, but Rose was close to beaming, which was weird. She was looking at the screen though, past my right shoulder, so I guess she was happy that she'd made it to second place. Unless her blush was connected with her smile.

I refused to look Maverick in the eye. I didn't want to see that coldness again. I wanted to pretend nothing had changed; except it had, and I didn't quite know how. And rage still bubbled in my stomach. Taking it out on digital animations sort of helped, but not really. I chose the next arena, purposefully choosing one that would benefit Kirby the most. Just to be nice to him.

"Wild Tiger, I wish to speak with you, please."

Fuck.

I put down my 'mote and stood, ignoring everyone's startled looks. I also tried not to look resentful, but I'm not sure if I managed. Well, I had every right to be resentful. So suck it, you creepy old man. No, no, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. Wait, yes I did. Oh, god, I'm confused…

He beckoned, and we stepped out into the hall, leaving Agnes to stare after us hungrily and the others to glance with differing levels of unease. I swear, I have never felt so tense and confused in my life.

Mr. Maverick smiled. "You don't look very well. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

He obviously meant it to be a conversation-opener, but I wasn't feeling very conversational.

"No. It doesn't matter. What did you want to talk about?" I asked irritably. "I was on a winning streak." And I'm hung-over, and I'm pissed at you, and I need to just go home—to my REAL home, my ma and my brother and my baby—and sleep for a year. Maybe I'll be died and not wake up. I don't know. I don't particularly care.

He gave me a look, like he knew that wasn't it, and he thought he knew what was really pissing me off, but I knew he didn't know. I'm tired. Let me go back to my gaming and winning and such. Let me get over being angry.

"You and he are not allowed any contact."

I went very still, and stared at him. No; there was no lie in his eyes. He was angry. He wanted me to be angry back about this. He wanted me to yell and kick and scream because I couldn't talk to my best, my only, my fake-but-I-don't-want-this-one-to-be-too-so-he-won't-be friend. I won't, though. What's the point in fighting the inevitable?

"Okay." Loyalty is heavy and hard to choose. Loyalty to my life, or loyalty to a person who makes my life a little more bearable? Is this like Honor's Paradox? I don't care. "Do I have to delete his number?"

He blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. "It would be best for both of you if you did so."

"Tony is going to be obnoxiously happy about this," I warned him, taking out my cell and scrolling to contacts. "Benny" flashed at me, green on dark gray; the delete button seemed like a hopeful puppy dog, gazing up beseechingly, _Do I get to be picked for this?_

Yes.

The green stopped flashing and it went back to the contacts list. It seemed unbearably short; ma, Mori, Ben, and Tony. I dropped my phone in my pocket again and looked up at Mr. Maverick, hoping he'd let me go. I want to sit down again. It takes a lot of nerve to look Maverick in the eye for longer than two seconds. I don't know how I managed it.

He sighed and smiled again. "Thank you. This is for the best, Tiger."

"Hopefully," I added quietly, and almost flinched. Rebellion? No. That makes my stomach cramp, just to even think about it. But it is my inner thoughts, and isn't it part of my identity, to say what I think? Yes. I walked past him, back through the doors and to the others. I must decide between them; rationality and emotion. I pity Benny, because of his lot in life, because of his uncle commanding his every move, because if I don't pity him I'll envy, and envy will eat me up until someone gets hurt. But rationally, I know this is a good thing, to break this. It will cut our dependence on each other. It'll be okay.

I grinned as they look at me, questioningly. "Small problem. It's all fixed now, though. Did you guys wait for me?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Playlist:  
Year of the Spider, Cold  
Losing Grip, Avril Lavigne  
Powerpuff Girls Official CD; various artists  
Pokémon theme (SHUT UP IT'S CATCHY)  
Hurt; Johnny Cash cover  
Mad World; Gary Jules cover  
A Thousand Suns, Linkin Park  
Nana del Laberinto del Fauno; Javier Navarrete  
The Open Door, Evanescence **

~~~\0/~~~

My latest opponent hit the wall, slid down it, and refused to stand up again. The jeering crowd pressing against the plywood barrier whistled and yelled and cheered, but he just crawled out the gate. I continued pacing the opposite side of the ring, kicking the sawdust occasionally. My jaw felt cracked and my arms hurt, but fuck the world.

Another burly fellow stepped in, flexing his muscles and sneering. I let him get to the center of the ring before I charged and knocked him out. He didn't even have any kind of guard, much less have it up.

"Dammit!" I kicked him, hard, as he whimpered and curled up on the floor. "Fuck! C'mon, somebody FIGHT me! Where are the actual fighters?! Why are all you bastards such pansies? COME ON!"

He scurried out; it was hard for me to catch my breath properly, and I was panting, and I was tired, so why were they all just falling? I need to hit something that won't break on impact, I need something to hit back, please, someone fight me, someone get in a punch, I hurt all over please someone come and hurt me…

They kept falling like dead leaves. Some of these men had been my students, some, my teachers. Why were they scared? They were letting their fear get in the way. Several got past my guard, but that was because I felt bad for them. Sloppy. All of them, sloppy. Worse than me. Why am I not falling over yet?

I could barely see, I was so tired and angry, but the minute they shoved a little kid in the arena with me, my eyes focused. I gaped at him as he stood there, shivering, scared. Barely more than sixteen.

"…No," I whispered. "You're barely a kid. Why…?"

"He's the best we've got," the referee explained, as the crowds got quieter, seeing my hesitation. "You've already gone through everyone else."

And suddenly, my entire body became lead, and it took a lot of effort to shake my head. "No. Telling a kid to fight is just mean."

"I'm really good," the kid protested, but shrank away when I looked at him. "I-I've been practicing. My old man taught me a lot."

"Did he teach you how to avoid a roundhouse?" I asked wearily, and kicked him out of the ring.

Everyone was silent. I tried not to seem too tired, but it was hard when I walked over and bent and dragged the kid to his feet by his skinny arm. He was trembling. I was too, but not visibly. Oh god, I'm tired.

"Just because your old man taught you doesn't mean you're ready," I told him heavily, and left the building.

~~~\0/~~~

"What happened?!"

"Went to a fight." I probed the bruise on my jaw gingerly and winced. It looked really, really bad. "D'you think you can fetch me an icepack?"

Fire Emblem just gaped at me, looking both horrified and that weird emotion people get when they want to hug you but know you'll kill them if they try. "Went TO a fight? You mean, you did this on purpose?"

"I wanted to punch something. I went through about twelve, thirteen guys before they ran out of ammo." I frowned at him in the mirror. "I've done it before, and you guys never noticed. Why does it matter?"

"Because… because…" He seemed unable to come up with a suitable answer and sighed. "Never mind. I'll get that icepack."

I couldn't help a grin. "Thanks, Nate."

He looked at me, startled, but then shook his head and disappeared. I continued inspecting. Yes, it was a relatively bad bruise, going all the way to the bone—which actually might be cracked—that probably wouldn't go away completely for several days. Oh well. In the meantime, my molar felt just the tiniest bit loosened, and that worried me. It hadn't hurt last night, but now it was too warm and throbbing. Ice would be preferable.

Why had he noticed?

I scowled at the drain, watching soapscum dry on the sink wall. No one used to notice. I used to beg for them to look at me, see, see what I've done, what's happened to me… but the minute someone realizes that I'm hurt, I want them to look away. Why? Well, lately, they've all been… but no. I'm okay. I promise, guys, I'm okay. Don't look at me like that, I'm fine.

"Good Lord! What happened?"

Oh god. Not you too. I closed my eyes tight and took a deep breath to steady myself. "I did some fighting. That's all." And I kicked a little kid, and I'm still tired, and I won seven hundred bucks by betting on myself, and I don't want you guys to notice.

"Fighting? What kind?" Sky High looks like he never touches the ground, the way he moves. He's an air-brain. "Were you set upon by footpads?"

Damn you. The corner of my mouth twitched at that phrase. "No. I did some underground fighting."

He looked utterly aghast. "But… that's illegal!"

"Yeah? So? Haven't you ever been so angry you need to hit something other than a bag of sand?" Huh. I didn't notice that split knuckle. It's already scabbed over pretty well, though. "As long as the person you're fighting doesn't mind getting their face rearranged, it's fine. The minute you step in the ring, you agree not to leave it until someone bleeds. Or something breaks. Either way. It's a test," I explained exasperatedly as his expression became horrified. "It's a test to see how much you can endure, how long and how far you can stretch yourself. It's so you can tell yourself you accomplished something. Even if you get knocked out, even if you lose, you know you did it. You stepped in and committed like a goddamn man." I noticed Fire Emblem standing beside us, holding the icepack and staring. "Oh, thanks."

They followed silently as I left the locker room, wandering to the window. They peeled off of course, veering off to do something more interesting than stare, but still, I could feel them looking at me. The cold felt very nice against my jaw.

I sat sideways on the couch and watched the city, trying to ignore the various aches all over. My knees felt loose and over-used; so did my ankles and shoulders. My elbows weren't talking to me right now. I tried not to probe my teeth too much; let them settle back on their own. In the meantime… Ahh, I feel so much better. I'm so fucking violent. But it helps. God, it helps…

We got a call in the area around my arena, and it turned out to be one of the bastards I'd decimated. He saw me, and recognized me (probably from my snarl), and bolted, straight into Rock Bison's arms. The guy he'd been beating on was the guy holding the bets, and he recognized me too, and he immediately whipped out papers and held them out, almost like offerings, and started babbling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hold them back, honest, it's just, they were late bets, and I forgot about them, and please don't kill me, I'm sorry, I really am—"

I took the papers and hauled him to his feet. "It's alright," I assured him, grinning. "It's not your fault you're a slimy, greedy bastard with no morals. Were you just raised that way, or did handling bets corrupt you?"

"Oy, you gambled with this guy?" Bison demanded. I shrugged.

"I bet on myself and I won. Who else did I bet on?" I unfolded the papers and flipped through them. "Ach! I lost on Chritz? Impossible, that guy was seven feet if he was an inch…"

"He lost to Johnny-Boy," the holder explained anxiously. "You know, the small one."

"Oh, yeah, I remember him. Took me, what, five minutes? Four?"

"Actually, the reff called it at two…"

"Hot damn! Well, thanks, Thom." I patted his shoulder with another grin. "Now I know who not to bet my life's savings on."

He nodded jerkily, forced a smile, and ran.

The other heroes stared at me as I looked through my papers. "…What?" I demanded when I looked up and saw them, a bit peeved. "Can't I win money without you all judging me? This is the first time in eight years, too, so don't go calling me a gambler."

"You bet on YOURSELF?" Blue Rose asked incredulously, wrinkling her nose at me in disgust.

I scowled at her. "Well, for the first few rounds it was kind of a given. They were all barely kids. I, eh, I guess I got a bit reckless later on, but it all worked out."

Bison took a breath as if to say something, hesitated, then said, "Remind me to place my bets on you and never step in the ring with you as my opponent."

My lip curled. "Wuss."

"Sadist."

Our discussion was cut short by a pair of police officers, one of whom saw my papers and immediately wanted to confiscate them as evidence. The other managed to convince him that they were legal documents and were legally mine. There's no law against _having_ money that you won while gambling.

The cameras caught this exchange. So of course there were now rumors that I was a gambler. After a couple weeks, though, Sky High was speculated as having a girlfriend, and everyone forgot me. Oh, and Blue Rose and Fire Emblem had a falling-out. And Tony came to work roaring drunk, which of course was noticeable. And Blue Rose accidentally let slip that she was currently dating. So I got tossed to the wayside again.

This was such a relief that I dialed Benny.

"_This number is not available."_

"Bullshit!" I threw the phone across the room and it hit the wall with a very loud crack. Then I thought about it.

Well, of course Maverick would take away his phone. And the whole deleted-number thingy was part of it. Maybe he'd get a new phone? But no. If he wanted to talk to me, he'd have called. So… he didn't want to talk? Well, I couldn't blame him, since I hadn't called, either. But surely he wouldn't forget all about me… Although I kind of forgot about him…

No, actually, I hadn't. I'd thought, vaguely, off and on, about how things were with him. This was usually when I was expected to pay attention to people other than Ben, but everyone else was there, too, so if I was unresponsive, there were more interesting targets. Sometimes I wonder if he's at the same functions as me, but how am I supposed to know who he is? Maverick would surely be monitoring him, so he wouldn't do anything silly. Silly? Ha! Knowing Benny, nothing he did was silly; things he said, in private, may be as ridiculous as a four-year-old, but his actions are thoughtful, planned-out, almost mathematical and always logical.

I hate him because of that. And yet, his approach has gotten me out of more tight corners than I could possibly imagine. So maybe it's a good thing that he reasons things and gathers data and all that shit instead of plunging in and hoping for the best.

Eh… I guess… we just won't be in contact anymore.

Benny… I'm sorry.

~~~\0/~~~

"_I had a dream about you."_

This statement was so strange that it didn't register for a minute that it was coming from a person I knew. "Uh… oh… h-hi, Benny," I got out, a little awkwardly. "Um. What do you mean by that?"

Nathan was currently sitting next to me, and he leaned forward eagerly. I scowled and shooed him away. I don't want that bastard listening to my private conversations.

"_I mean I had a dream about you. That's why I called. I… I'm so sorry, I don't know why… I… I completely forgot about you. Like, I couldn't even remember your voice…"_

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. He sounded scared. Warning bells went off and the Something Is Wrong meter that every parent worth their salt has was going through the roof. "What the hell do you mean? That's not… It's been a while, but it hasn't been THAT long. How—"

"_I don't KNOW!" _he burst out, and he was definitely crying. _"That's why I called. I had a dream about you last night, about the bar, when I didn't talk to you, and you looked angry right from the start, and then you looked at me and it was scary how angry you were, so I woke up, and, and—"_

"Alright, calm down and shut up," I snapped, shooting Nathan a glare. He took the hint and scooted away, to snuggle up to Tony instead, and distract him. "I'm not angry at you, okay? I've been trying to stay off the radar so he won't force ME to change my number or something equally ridiculous. Damn! See, I'd almost stopped using big words, and now look what you've done! Little prick." I grinned as a tiny sob-turned-laugh made it through the speakers. "No, I'm not angry. I'm sorry."

"_Why are YOU apologizing?" _he sniffled, a little annoyed. Ahh, THERE'S the waspish little brat I know. _"It's me who forgot. I couldn't even... I didn't even know you in the dream, I was just annoyed that you were angry at me, b-but when I woke up… oh, god, I'm sorry…"_

"Geez, kid, it's not that big a deal." I glanced around, but nobody was paying attention to me, as usual. I stood up and retreated to the men's room. Nobody was using it, which was a bit odd; but, then again, the conversations at the tables were holding everyone in place. Out of habit, I took the second from the left. "I forgot, too. I mean, I didn't forget you existed, I just forgot to even try to call you until yesterday. And your number is unavailable."

"_He made me change it,"_ he explained, his voice still quavering. _"No… no, that's the problem. _I _forgot you existed. No, I didn't forget; you were just, you were just GONE." _His voice broke on that last word, and the urge to reach through the phone and hug him was so strong I had to hold my stomach and try not to immediately demand he come here and let me help him. I hate it when people talk in that tone. It makes me want to cry along with them. _"You weren't there. It was like, the last two years of my life, I had the vague feeling that someone had been there, and that explained why I did things so out of character. But I didn't know who it was, and, and I just, for some reason, I didn't CARE. That's the scary part. I didn't even care to find out who it had been."_

"Oh, god." I knew I should say something encouraging, something comforting, but all I could think of saying was, "I hate your uncle."

"_Why?"_

"Something happened, right after he made you change your number, right? Couldn't he have helped you avoid it? Or… was that why he wanted you to not call me, because he knew it would happen?"

"_I… I don't know… maybe." _He sounded a little more under control, and it made me feel better that he was going to be okay. I am a selfish idiot.

"Can you come here? Or do you want me to come to you? I can just leave right now; they don't need me here." I was already out of the stall and heading for the exit. "If you need me to—"

"_I'll come there. I'll pretend I have something to talk to uncle about. Actually, yes, I need to ask him about…" _rustling papers _"…there they are. I will come there."_

"Alright. I'll be with the others, letting them torture me. Is that okay?"

"_Okay. …Thank you."_

I had to grin. "Oh, contraire, kid. I should be the one thanking YOU. We can compare notes on how horrible our lives are in person. It'll be so much more satisfying, ne?"

His laugh was much more normal. _"Yes. I will be there in fifteen minutes."_

"Good. See ya in fifteen, I guess."

"_See ya."_

He sounded amused as he said it, and I couldn't recall hearing him say it before. Ah, well. It'll be okay. I'll see him in fifteen. For some reason, that was a good feeling. I can help people. I can make him happy. He still wants to be my friend.

Tony looked particularly protective when I sneaked back to my seat. "Phoning improper persons with the intent to do yourself harm?" he asked dryly. His tone was rumbling and possessive. "SHE wouldn't approve."

"SHE didn't care if I got myself in trouble, as long as I found a way out," I snapped back, which wasn't necessarily true, but I'D been the husband, not Tony. Although playing the guilt card sufficiently smashed my general good feeling. I want someone to make me happy, not make me guilty and grumpy.

Fire Emblem seemed to decide the only way to make me happy was to inspect (translation: grope) my ass, which he proclaimed, slightly surprised and irritated, was perhaps even better than Tony's, in terms of firmness. Apparently I was supposed to be flattered. I wasn't.

Making a scene with those two idiots helped drag me away from guilty thoughts and feelings. Mr. Maverick asked us to calm down, and Fire Emblem recommended me to him. I punched him in the face (Fire Emblem, not Mr. Maverick). Blue Rose yelled at us, and Ben snapped, and Sky High tried to talk over us so we wouldn't be quite so fascinating, but Tony started making snide remarks about how I was only in Fire Emblem's "adequate" category because I'd been taking better care of myself and working out and hadn't told anyone the reason for this. I threw him several yards and dumped a bottle of champagne in his face.

During the hubbub, which had disintegrated the entire party into all the non-heroes standing in one corner, wide-eyed, watching us kill each other, I saw a little blond head poke through the doorway. The eyes looked vaguely green, and the entire figure was slim in a kind of half-starved-but-still-with-muscle way. I only got one glance. My look drew Tony's attention, and he immediately imposed himself between me and the new arrival.

Of course, I couldn't argue without someone noticing, and he knew that, and for every step I took, Tony matched it, completely blocking my view. It didn't take long for Mr. Maverick to notice the new kid, and he hurried forward, plastering a smile on his face that was a perfectly measured one of surprise and welcome. I craned my neck, as did pretty much everyone, but Tony suddenly grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, so I was facing the opposite direction. When I tried to turn, he blocked me. I gave up. If he wants to draw attention to himself, let him. I just want to see if he's still okay.

Fire Emblem whistled appreciatively. "My! Isn't he a tasty little morsel. What do you think, Wild— Eh?"

I scowled as he noticed my quite singular predicament. "It's not my fault this big bastard is paranoid."

"He looks like a prick," Tony muttered, still with a hand on the back of my neck to keep me from turning. "A rich-kid prick who's bad at lying. He's trying too hard."

"How bad?" I demanded, trying to at least look over my shoulder. He was still hidden from view. "Dammit, wolf-bait, let go of me!"

"No."

Everybody was starting to notice, now. I knew better than to thrash too much; he can break my neck if I try. I've seen him do it. I settled for trying to pry off his fingers.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Dragon Kid asked curiously. I tried not to swear too loudly, but her comment only added to the flame. "What's with the holding-him-still number?"

"None of your business," Tony responded coldly.

"Ha!" I crowed triumphantly, getting his thumb off and spinning away from his grip. "I'd like to know, too, actually, you big, dumb, dirty—eh?"

Mr. Maverick stood about three feet away. He didn't look particularly happy. In fact, he looked downright angry.

"May I speak with you please, Wild Tiger?" he inquired shortly.

"Are you going to yell at me?" I countered, eyeing him warily. "Because if you are, then no, I'd rather not."

One or two smiles, but mostly the room was a bit taken aback that I would talk like that to the ruler of this empire. Well, why wouldn't I? He'd sent the newcomer away, without my being able to see him, and I'm used to biting back when someone is angry at me. He's an asshole sometimes. But he's just trying to help… right?

His smile is cold, which instantly puts me on edge. "No. I won't "yell" at you. It is imperative that we get this sorted out quickly."

"…okay." I followed him out of the room, uncomfortably aware that everyone was watching us. I almost slipped in the puddle of champagne, but he just kept going, so I tried my best to recover without cursing. It was hard, because I was still annoyed and angry, and feeling guilty because a lot of my anger was directed at Mr. Maverick, so my filter was a bit unrestrained at the moment. The corridor was empty. I had hoped he'd hung around, but it seems he doesn't dare defy his uncle. Which made me angrier.

"Tiger…" he sighed, the disappointed sigh of a teacher who knows the student they are disciplining will never learn, "I told you not to contact him."

"I didn't," I snapped. Then I felt even guiltier. I shouldn't be putting Benny in the spotlight, he doesn't deserve to be punished just because he was scared. It was out before it had fully formed in my head; "Is he okay?"

Such a tiny flicker of surprise, he must not have noticed it showing on his face. "Ah… yes, he's fine. He's doing much better now that he's not—"

"Distracted, yes, I know," I interrupted impatiently, "But that isn't an answer. The last time we talked, which was about a month ago, by the way, he didn't sound very good. What's wrong with him?"

I realized I meant it. Is he okay? I want to know, is he alright? I'm such a possessive asshole, but I don't want him to be hurt; he's my only friend. "Well?"

Mr. Maverick just stared at me. I suppose… had it never occurred to him that I'm worried about someone other than myself? I'm scared. Scared because of his panic at the thought that he'd forgotten, scared because Maverick is so intent on keeping me away from him, scared because I don't want to lose someone who is nice to me and doesn't laugh and jeer and get angry every time I say something "wrong". I'm scared that something awful will happen to him. I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling in my gut, that something is about to happen, something very, very bad is going to happen. This is not okay. This is wrong. Please tell me he's okay.

"…Do you mean mental health, physical, or safety?" Maverick asked finally.

"All three."

He sighed. "He is fine. His academic performance is excellent, and he's interviewing for a new job tomorrow. He is not ill, nor is he grievously injured. There is nothing in the world that would want to hurt him, anyway. He's completely fine."

Though I don't trust him, I felt myself relax a little. "Oh… okay. That's okay, I guess." I need to hear it from his own lips, but his uncle is the next best thing. "Can I leave?"

"First, I think it is proper for you to apologize for your mess."

I groaned and he smiled.

~~~\0/~~~

"Are you okay now?"

"_Yes. I am fine."_

"Are you sure?"

"_Are you going to stop fussing?"_

I grimaced to myself. "No, not really, I guess."

"_I am perfectly happy just talking to you, if that's what you mean. Uncle told me you were… worried."_

"Um."

"…_Thank you. And why?"_

"Well, what the hell else was I supposed to say? I worry about you, kid. I need someone to worry about, it's one of those selfless-to-be-selfish things."

"_My psychiatrist would've put you in the category of "protector", if that's what it is."_

"Yeah?" I curled up sideways and frowned at the calluses on my feet. "What are you?"

"_She said I was too self-centered and revenge-oriented to be part of any category that she knew of."_

"Revenge?"

"_I… Didn't I tell you?"_

"I don't think so…"

"_Well, then, I guess I… I guess I won't tell you."_

"Why not? If it's something bad for you, I want to know."

"_It's not bad. It's just something that I need to do._"

"You are so dramatic. What's wrong? Tell me, dammit, I need to know!"

"_No you don't."_

My head throbbed, and I wanted so badly to go to his house and force him to trust me. I need you to trust me, you bitch, you asshole, pleasepleaseplease let me be your friend. I need a friend of my own right now, and you are a perfect candidate. I want to cry on you, but not until you trust me again. I want to lean on someone. I can't keep going to my mom for help. "Please, Benny. Please trust me."

Silence on the other end. _"…I can't."_

Why do I want to cry? "Why not?"

"_Because, as I stated before, it is important, and I don't want you nosing into it," _he snapped, and my vision blurred. _"I can't trust anyone with this."_

"…I get it."

"_Do you?" _he asked bitterly. _"Do you really think you understand?"_

"Yeah. Sorry for bothering you. I promise not to call again."

"_What? W-wait, no—"_

My phone made a satisfying snapping noise when I hurled it at the wall. Just to be thorough, I put it in the fireplace (without battery) and turned on the gas.

If he won't trust me, then there is no point in trying to be his friend.

~~~\0/~~~

Of course, then I had to get a new phone (again) and a new number. I'd kind of become attached to my old number, but what the hell, why not change it. It's not like I need it anymore.

I got a back-up cell, though, with my old number. Just… because I didn't want to bother all the extraneous people who have reason to call sometimes.

"A new phone?" Tony asked cautiously. "What happened to the old one?"

"It broke," I evaded, not meeting his eyes. "Then it melted."

For some reason, he looked very, very smug. "That's too bad. What's your new number?"

I told him, then drifted to the bikes. I need to do a bit of self-hating and guilt-tripping myself before I start thinking words. Nathan tried to intercept me, but I skipped around him. Soul-searching didn't enter into it, but I don't really want anyone interrupting me. I'm gonna miss him, but honestly, if he doesn't want to be a friend, then I don't want to have to be his. I think… it'd started deteriorating when he ran his search on me. Why had he done that?

Doesn't matter. Everything is gonna be okay now. Everything is gonna be normal again.

"What's normal?" I asked Blue Rose as she appeared suddenly at the edge of the circle. "I don't remember it anymore."

She glared at me. "Normal is something you're not. Are you done?"

"Ten more minutes?"

"Ugh, you are such a child."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She glared at me; I retaliated with a cheesy grin. She may not like me, but I can still pretend to not care.

Suddenly, she blushed, looked bewildered, and practically ran across the room to duck into the girl's locker room. I stared after her, then shrugged and rested my chin on my knees. Normal… what's normal? Not talking civilly? Getting angry instead of being dismissive? Being dismissive instead of getting angry? Forgetting to take other people's thoughts into consideration? Well… I'll probably fall back into the pattern in a few days. I never truly forgot how to be myself.

How to be… myself?

My call bracelet beeped. I unfolded and shuffled to the locker room to change. Sky High, Ivan, Tony, and Nathan were already there, and done. So they left, and they didn't see when I picked up my razor, looked at it for a second, then re-opened the scar on my left shoulder. It hurt. It distracted me. I hadn't scarred myself in about three years, but today was a special occasion. If "special" is the right word for it. I dunno, it… it just… it helps. So I stood there for a minute and watched the blood roll down my arm and drip on the floor. It's hypnotic, the drip of blood and the throb of pain. Eventually, I woke up and patched it up and got ready to go.

~~~\0/~~~

"Cut myself again today."

Ma looked like she was about to reach through the screen and kill me. _"You… you what?!"_

I swallowed another mouthful of rice. "Cut myself. Oh… I guess I didn't tell you? Maybe I'm thinking of Tony."

"_What do you mean, you cut yourself? You said you wouldn't do it after ninth grade."_

"Eh…" I glanced at the thin pink lines on my wrist that I usually hid with my wristband. "I lied?"

"_Where did you cut yourself?"_

I pointed to my shoulder. "Nobody notices, ma. Nobody notices anything. My five days of fame are up, I'm extraneous again. Gah! Why can't I stop using big words?"

"_Baby, maybe you should come home…"_

"Nah, I'm good. First time in three years, I was overdue. I'm better now, though, ma, really, I am. It was just once." Why does my trachea still hurt when I talk about that kind of thing? I never told this to Benny, either…

"_Once can become twice can become a million. What's wrong? Or, what WAS wrong? Please, baby, I need to know."_

"I was just… I thought I had a friend, but apparently we're not friends anymore. That's all."

"_Is this "friend" the boy who's been calling you so often?"_

"Not anymore."

Ma rolled her eyes, then glared at me. _"Why was that so important? You have other friends. If he doesn't want to have to deal with my son's greatness, then it's his loss."_

"Ma, my only friends are alcoholics, and one has liver cancer and is on his deathbed. When he's gone, I'll have one friend, and she's not even a friend."

"_You and Tony—"_

I just stared at her. She glared back for a while, but it wasn't in her today, so she sighed and went back to looking worried and miserable. "We made a deal, ma. He doesn't fuck with me, I don't fuck with him. That includes trying to be friends."

"_Being friends has nothing to do with it."_

"Friendship is based on trust. I don't trust him, he doesn't trust me, and that fucking sonofabitch who used to call me doesn't trust me anymore, either, for absolutely no reason. So, I'm not friends with either of them."

She conceded to my logic. _"If you cut yourself again, I will send Muramasa over."_

I smiled wanly. "I'll clear out the bomb shelter and stock up on baked beans."

~~~\0/~~~

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Watching," I muttered. The front of my bicep bleeds just as nicely as the side, and even though it was just a shallow swipe, there was a healthy sheet of blood branching into individual droplets. The throbbing, the sharp sting in my jaw, felt nice. I don't know why my nerves connect to such weird spots, but they do. The cut felt cold.

A large pad of gauze slammed into my arm, and I yelped, trying to stand up and get away, but Tony grabbed my arm and straightened it and wrapped the bandages so tight I could barely move. Now, THAT pain was unhealthy and didn't feel very good. But he hauled me to my feet and slammed me into the lockers.

"What the HELL is wrong with you?!" he shouted, "What the FUCKING hell?! You said you wouldn't DO that anymore!"

"Why does it matter to YOU?" I snapped back, shoving him away from me. He looked pale, and he seemed… impossible, he can't be scared, Tony is never scared, and especially not of me. He was angry too, though, furious, wrathful. "It's not your problem!"

"If it's your problem, it's mine. Tú eres mi hermeno y yo te protegeré."

I stared at him. "…We broke that pact, remember?"

"YOU did," Tony snarled, "YOU said it was done, that our alliance was over. I didn't have a say. So it's YOU who broke the pact."

"That was ten years ago!"

"So was that!"

The accusatory stab at my arm made me suddenly… ashamed. I need to feel it, sometimes. It's not like I LIKE doing this to myself, I just…

"What's going on here?"

"None of your business," Tony and I spat in unison. I forgot to keep myself carefully angled, so Sky High saw the blood and the gauze and immediately assumed that it was everyone's business.

"What is that! Did you do that to yourself? Why? Doesn't it hurt? Oh lord, how much blood HAVE you lost?!"

"It's nothing," I tried to get through his flurry of loud, concerned questions. "It's nothing! I've had worse, and I'll be fine."

"Is something wrong? Oh… oh my god!"

"It's NOTHING!" I shouted, but Nathan didn't hear me and proceeded to fuss and almost wax hysterical. I, uh, I guess neither of them had much experience with "self-harm"? Anyway, I tried to get away from them, but I had to leave the locker room, and that meant stepping into the middle of the younger kids, all standing around curiously. Blue Rose gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Dragon Kid stared, puzzled. Ivan looked at the blood, and, instead of acting shocked, he just looked very sad. I saw him almost touch his wrist, but he snatched his hand away because he saw me looking.

It was hard to even listen to everyone demanding why. How am I supposed to know why? It just helps. It makes everything feel a little more bearable. It reminds me that I'm real, I'm not dreaming, this actually is a fucking shithole of a world and I'm not asleep, this isn't just a nightmare, and I can't hide from it. That scares me, but it… it reminds me. The pain and blood, it keeps me in the real world, and it makes it safe to be real.

It's more than that. But how can I tell them that when I can't even quite articulate it to myself? And they're pressing in, Tony is yelling and Sky High has started wondering if he should call 911 or something and Blue Rose is hanging back with her hands over her mouth and she looks like she's going to cry and Ivan is just standing there and he looks like he knows. The more I see and hear them, the harder it gets to talk. How am I supposed to speak when they're being so weird?

Dragon Kid hugged me suddenly. Of course, this made me want to cry. Hugs feel nice. Nicer than sharp things, and watching blood drip. But I can't just randomly ask for hugs, because that would be weird. But I like hugs. My knees buckled, she changed her grip to around my neck, and I hugged back. She's small. She's a child. Kaede?

Tomoe had slapped me when she found my scars. Then she'd kissed me. Then she'd hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. Kaede used to hug me like that too. She cried when her mommy slapped her daddy, but she cried harder when she found out that daddy used to hurt himself on purpose.

I miss hugging my baby girl…

A tear found its way onto Dragon Kid's shoulder from my face, but I didn't cry. Tony grabbed me again and lifted me to my feet and ripped off the gauze and bandages. I yelped and tried to get away, but he didn't let go. Blue Rose let out a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. Sky High whipped out his cellphone, but Ivan snatched it away from him.

"It's not an emergency," he told his superior, in a loud enough voice that everyone heard. Then he turned to me. "Is it?"

I shook my head mutely.

"Okay then. That's settled." Ivan handed Sky High back his phone and wandered away.

Everyone stared after him, but the moment I started tugging out of Tony's grip, everyone's eyes latched on me again.

"You still need stitches," Tony got out through clenched teeth.

I measured the depth by sticking my finger in it, which made it burn, but was also a good method. "No, I don't. Maybe a bit of disinfectant, but I don't need stitches or staples or any of that shit. There've been worse—" I cut myself off, but not before Tony slugged me hard in the gut.

Nathan insisted on at least using a tourniquet while we figured out what to do ("we" being him and Tony). Tony pointed out that deciding would take too long, and they should just truss me up and drag me to the hospital. He carefully did not mention what kind of hospital, which made me kick him in the balls. Dragon Kid got a towel and started scrubbing off the drying blood. Blue Rose quietly fetched the disinfectant and new bandages. Sky High did me the honor of finding some of those tiny white butterfly-shaped sticky things to pull the edges together well enough to bind my arm.

Everyone was acting like it was some kind of act of violence by an outside source. Like someone else had taken a razor and sliced my skin open. But it wasn't. Tony seemed to be the only one who looked a bit pale and still had a bit of fear in the lines around his mouth and in the back of his eyes.

Tú eres mi hermeno y yo te protegeré…

It was a bit flattering to have so many people taking an interest in my wellbeing, but it was scary and embarrassing that it was my coworkers. Shouldn't they be angry? Shouldn't they be telling me I'm an idiot for thinking it makes things easier? It doesn't, but it does, but it doesn't…

Nathan planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek, and I yelped and tripped over my own two feet in my scramble to get away. He caught me up in a big bear hug which made me cough and wheeze a bit, but he didn't seem to notice or care, because he was still arguing with Tony.

"It doesn't matter if it's happened before, it happened now, and he needs professional care!" he was currently wailing.

"Yeah, professional is right," Tony snarled, glaring at me, not Nathan. "You promised, goddammit!"

I couldn't breathe, so I just scowled at him. Nathan gasped at his language and turned away, swinging me like a ragdoll. Yes, I get it, I'm short. Screw you too. "Such language, in front of children! You silly, silly little old man," he cooed, rubbing his cheek on my head. I tried to tell him off, but all that came out was a pissed-off growl. "You should know better. You, of all people! We're here for you, Kotetsu, just remember that!"

"Wait… Kotetsu?"

Nathan swung around again, which made me swing in turn, and I snarled at Tony, who shrugged and smirked. I tried to wriggle free and coughed again as he tightened his grip on me. "Why, yes! That's his name. Did you not know?"

"'Course they don't," I wheezed, kicking at him. "Nobody every fucking asks. Let go of me!"

"No."

"That's… that's a weird name," I heard Blue Rose comment uncertainly.

"Japanese," Dragon Kid piped up. "Ya know, my Zŭfùmŭ would slaughter you if they met you. My family carries a lot of grudges."

I turned my head as well as I could to frown at her. "Chinese?"

"Yup."

"Damn. Why didn't I—HEY!"

Nathan pretended not to notice how much I was squirming as he let me go for half a second and then scooped me up princess-carry style. "It doesn't matter what nationality any of us are. Why, you're much lighter than Tony dearest!"

"I should think so, since I'm not such a pig for barbeque," I snapped. "Let me go, damn it!"

"But you deserve some time off your feet, little old man."

"Stop calling me that!"

My phone went off.

I froze. No… no, if that's him… I couldn't help glancing at Tony, but he was already moving, he snatched my phone from my pocket (with me protesting feebly) and demanded, "Who is this?"

"…Oh god," I moaned, covering my face. "Oh god, if that's… please tell me it's not him. Please."

Tony was silent for a minute. Then he said, "You got the wrong number. This just so happens to be MY phone, so fuck off and leave all of us alone." He snapped my cell shut and tossed it at me. I caught it unthinkingly, suddenly not caring that Nathan was holding me against my will.

"What did he want?" I demanded nervously. "If he said sorry—"

"He wanted to know why you weren't answering your phone, so he ran some kind of search," Tony interrupted.

All of my dread suddenly turned into anger. "Well, fuck him, then," I spat, glaring at my phone. "This is why I hate brats like him. Tony, I concede and apologize. He's an asshole."

"I guessed that."


	6. Chapter 6

**Playlist:  
Let It Grow (Celebrate The World); Ester Dean  
Little Lion Man; Mumford and Sons  
Album: Fallen; Evanescence  
Candy Everybody Wants; 10,000 Maniacs  
Winter Song; Sara B. and Ingrad M.**

~~~\0/~~~

"Goddamn."

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Well, seeing as it's soaking right through, I'd say it's pretty bad," Ben snapped, fishing out his needle and thread from his makeshift medikit. "You did this to yourself?"

"Yeah." I winced, but didn't flinch away as he pierced my skin and started stitching. "First time since I was sixteen. Well, second time. I suppose technically the first was a couple days ago. Tony's an asshole and had to start a riot over it. That's why Fire Emblem keeps molesting me and Blue Rose is acting weird."

He raised his eyebrow at me. "She's acting worried. Fire Emblem is trying too hard to make you feel better. You like getting random hugs, don't deny it."

I made a face at him and tried to ignore the way my ears were starting to heat up. "Hugs are good. I don't understand why people don't like them."

"People aren't clingy little pests like you. Right, that's you finished, big man." He tapped my shoulder and levered himself to his feet with a grunt. I stood too, ignoring the urge to scratch. "Wanna tell me why you're turning into a suicidal maniac?"

"Suicide is bad for your health. And I'm not a maniac, I just… don't really… see, it's like…" I sighed and gave up trying to explain. "Never mind. I don't know how to say it. It's one of those things where you don't know how to talk about it, so you just do it, because it explains itself, y'know? Well, not to other people—"

"Shut up and put on your shirt," Ben ordered. Was it my imagination, or did he look a bit more haggard? "How are we gonna explain this to the cameras? They've obviously seen everybody's interest in you, and it's possible one saw the stain."

I shrugged and winced as my shoulder throbbed. "Tell them to ask Rock Bison. He's good at bullshitting. It's in his name, after all. OW! Goddamnit, Emblem, stop that!"

Having pinched my behind and hugged me tight enough that I coughed and wheezed, he let go and pouted. "Geez, you act like it's the end of the world. You aren't nearly as good as darling Bison, but you'll do."

"Stop taking out your sexual frustrations on me!" I snapped, backing away and making a cross with my fingers in warding. "Isn't Sky High a better target?"

"Oh, pooh! He doesn't look half as good in tights as you do. Come here."

"Nuhnuhnuhnuh—NO! Put me DOWN!"

"You are so mean, little old man! Shush for a moment, won't you?" he huffed, and pinched my ass again. I yelped, but stopped struggling. I hate being carried. I hate being carried by my enemies. I hate it when my enemies are concerned for my safety and decide the best way to protect me is to set a 24/7 watch on me. I hate being a huggy person.

"I hate you," I muttered, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and trying to ignore everyone's staring. "I really frickin' hate you."

He made a little "um-hum" noise and fairly pranced up to Tony. "Bison dearest! Look what I rescued from under the porch. Isn't it adorable? Can we keep it?"

Tony rubbed his chin as well as he could while wearing a helmet and pretended to be thinking deeply. "Hmm. Does it have fleas?"

"I am NOT a goddamn stray cat!" I yowled, trying to squirm out of Emblem's arms. "Lemme go, damn it, this is embarrassing enough without you two acting like you're married. At least wait until you're alone, nobody wants to see you mooning over each other—STOP IT!"

Tony ignored my protesting and just dragged me out of Emblem's embrace, holding me up at arm's length, like I was some kind of doll. I snarled and kicked and struggled, but he's taller than me by about half a foot, meaning if he held me at eyelevel, my feet were several inches off the ground and didn't quite reach when I tried to kick him.

(I'm the size of a runty teenager when you compare me to my coworkers. It's not my fault my genes made me small, goddamnit!)

"Eh… he's too feral," Tony dismissed after letting me struggle for about a minute. "He'd try to piss on the couch first chance he got. We can take him to the pound, though."

"I'd like to see you try," I snarled.

"HEY! Pull your shirt down, we can see your scars!"

I made a noise similar to an "uhng?" of inquiry, twisting in Tony's gauntleted grip to search for the complainer. Well, now that I thought about it, my midriff felt rather chilly, and it seemed my shirt and vest were bunching a little as gravity pushed me through Tony's grasp. But… oh, fuck.

"…What the hell is that?" Tony rumbled.

I rolled my eyes and kicked once more, a token effort that made no difference. "None of your business."

He dropped me quite suddenly, and I hit the ground with the force of a thousand jillion cells all bunched together to make up a human person. Then, of course, he dragged me to my feet again and lifted my shirt, ignoring my angry yelping. He stabbed a finger at a particularly prominent welt in my right side. "What the FUCKING hell is that?"

"None of your business," I repeated, scowling and struggling out of his grip. "Hey, it's not my fault that bastard from Austria is so good with a belt. Don't worry, I knocked out a few teeth, it won't happen again."

"And that?"

"Kid from the lower east side slipped in one of those really tiny guns in his underwear. I broke his wrist."

"And this?"

"Guy from California, used to be a farmhand. Kicks harder than a horse."

"And that?"

"Um."

I didn't really like having to explain all the various injuries materializing all over me, so I turned to leave, only to be confronted with Blue Rose's thunderous scowl.

"And WHY," she hissed, "Would you be out getting KICKED by a FARMHAND from Cali?"

I shrugged. "Hey, you get all kinds at the ring."

This was, of course, exactly the wrong thing to say. There was much scolding and near-hysterical lecturing, from all three of them, Tony, Rose, and Emblem. Hey, it's not my fault I'm good at putting upstart little thugs in their place. I'm out of shape, it's a good thing that I'm out pummeling useless assholes into submission. I'm preventing an entire generation of weak gangsters who can't use knives for shit and have terrible aim with a gun. Or maybe I'm teaching them to rely only on physical prowess…

This explanation earned a stinging slap from Blue Rose and a throbbing bruise from Tony. Keep this up and my face will be puffy and multicolored to the point of obese racism. I am terrible with metaphors.

My keys, which were rather sharp, disappeared sometime during this debate. I suspect Dragon Kid.

When Agnes sidled up to us, we all shut up and glared at her. She just gave us all a sickly-sweet smile. "So, what were those scars again?"

"Why do you care?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "They won't get publicity. I've already had my five days of fame, why don't you all focus on Blue Rose's love life?"

"Don't give her ideas," Rose hissed, "She'll turn them against you!"

"Rock Bison!" Agnes barked, turning on Tony. "What's going on?"

"Stuff," he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot, like a sullen child taken aside by the teacher. "None of it is important. Not really. It's kind of a thing from highschool, so…"

"It's personal!" Rose snapped, stepping in front of me as if to shield me from Agnes' predatory advances. "So go away. Go an' fuss over Sky High; isn't he Hero King again?"

"Formal ceremony is tomorrow," Agnes answered absently. "What are those bandages on your arm?"

Fire Emblem stepped forward, took hold of Agnes' shoulders, turned her around, and marched her away, talking over her protests in a sweet, innocent tone that was only emphasized by the rigidity of his entire demeanor. "What do you say to a trip to Burton's? I've been dying to see what new styles they have, I hear they've replaced their entire stock…"

His inane chatter as he shoved her away, and the general feeling of protectiveness coming off of Rose and Tony, made me feel… weak. Puny. Helpless. I shouldn't need half the cast to protect me. I shouldn't need to see my own blood to feel okay again. I shouldn't need the people who were my rivals, my enemies, to suddenly turn on me and hug me and tell me it's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay.

I want my Tomoe.

~~~\0/~~~

"Dammit!

"Fuck!

"Shit!

"Damn it damn it DAMN IT!"

Various swear words ran through my head, but the Core Three came out easier and I didn't need to be creative with them to get my point across. My point was that it hurt to be running around the concrete jungle with my new stitches. And I fell pretty hard on that ice. And that bullet hurts; wait, oh, FUCK, it ripped my—SHIT SHIT SHIT

Something slammed into me. I'm pretty sure I made a little squeaky noise that was fairly girly and childish, but I couldn't hear it because I was a bit dazed and there was wind whistling rather close to my ear. We landed with a jolt, and I removed my hand from my wound to see blood.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Are you alright, old man?"

I froze. Slowly, I looked up.

The pinkish-red suit of fancy armor contained a smirking, green-eyed, blond little rich bastard. He oozed charm and refined bloodlines.

I immediately socked him in the face.

~~~\0/~~~

"Um. Sorry."

"'S okay," Benny mumbled, pinching his bleeding nose. "I didn't expect you to exactly greet me with a grin and a jello shot, after all. Um."

We just kinda stood there awkwardly for a minute. Everyone else was in place, waiting for the announcements and muttering to each other about various happenings in their worlds. They all seemed to be pointedly ignoring me and Benny. This was somewhat annoying, since we were at the other side of the backstage entirely and therefore isolated enough already. This was also somewhat gratifying because I did NOT want anyone to get in the middle of our (inevitable) conversation (argument).

I wished desperately for a distraction, and poof, Ben appeared. I swear to god, that man is a fairy godmother in disguise.

"Tiger! Why'd you have to go and rip your stitches so soon?" he snapped, casting Benny a quick, unfocused scowl before turning on me again. "Ach, it's obvious it's too deep for a scrape. Change, and get more bandages on that. I guess you won't be showing up in the lineup for the announcement. Again."

"Well, there's no real reason for me TO be there," I grumbled, poking at my arm gingerly. "Sky High won. No one else really matters. It's all for show." I felt a tingle in the Force and turned to see Benny walking away, quickly, towards the stage. "Oy… Oy! Where're you going?"

"Uncle says I have to be there," he called over his shoulder.

"Why?"

"…You'll see."

"Damn it, Benny, stop being so damn mysterious and give me a real answer!"

But he was already gone.

I tried not to lose my temper. God damn you, I find you here and you "save" me and I think we can maybe be friends again and you just ignore me? You selfish, mistrusting, snobby, annoying, awkward—

_You have pretty eyes._

I told myself I wasn't running away. And it was true; I wasn't running. I was just walking, very fast, trying not to panic. No. No, no, no, if he starts doing THAT again, if he tries to go back to THAT phase, I will kill him. I will kill him dead. Never ever ever, he is NEVER allowed to say that again. But why? Why does it scare me, the thought that he said that, and to me? Why does it still make me want to puke? Why do I still remember, that one line, that one sentence…

No. I remember all of it.

"_Hmm. Since you complain about your facial hair so often, I am inclined to believe you are either clean-shaven or have minimal coverage; a beard seems more likely than a mustache."_

"_Bingo on that respect."_

"_Heh. Dark-haired?"_

"_Brown."_

"_Slightly longer than fashionable."_

"_You have a photo of me, I swear to god…"_

"_Well, since I don't stalk my friends, that is highly unlikely. I'm sorry to offend, but I've always imagined that you have pretty eyes."_

"No I don't," I muttered to myself. My cut stung, but I cleaned it ruthlessly and bound it up tight. "Yes you do, and no I don't." Stalker. Liar. Lying, sneaking, self-serving, oh god why am I so scared?

Seeing him face to face. Hearing the voice free of static. Seeing his eyes flash when he talks, that damning smirk, that terrible bite in his tone; did my phone filter that out, or does he really act and talk like that until he picks up the receiver? I know people who do that; their entire demeanor changes when they pick up the phone. His eyes are green. Dark green. Not exactly "pretty", but close enough. It's… disturbing. No man—no boy, I guess—should be that pretty.

"He can't be Benny," I mumbled, running my tie through my fingers. "No… I've never seen him, so how do I know? He doesn't look anything like Maverick, so he can't be his nephew… unless by marriage?

"Stop making excuses, Kotetsu." The fabric made a little snap as I yanked it straight. "Face it, the little bastard is a prick, and he hates everybody. It's in his goddamn face."

I closed my eyes, and the first thing that popped into my head was Tomoe. Pretty Tomoe, beautiful Tomoe, perfect Tomoe… She would know what to do. She would know what to say.

I'm dreaming of you, sweetheart. Every night, I'm dreaming…

"Hey."

"What do YOU want?"

"Just… wanted to say hey."

I glared at Origami and tried to look forbidding. "Well, you've said it, so leave."

He was looking at my arm. I felt like turning away, hiding the nice clean bandages, but no, it doesn't matter. So I said nothing as he stared. He seemed to be thinking hard, although I couldn't see him due to his mask. I decided I'd had enough at the one-minute mark, finished buttoning my vest, and slapped on my hat. I don't care. I don't care. I do NOT care. I do not care.

"…Did you know he was coming? Was that why you did it?"

I tensed, trying to reign in my temper. "What do you mean?"

He pointed at my arm. "You cut again. Did you know he was coming? You didn't seem very happy to see him."

"Well, no, I wasn't." I rubbed the wound absently, trying to figure out a way around this conversation. "Shouldn't you go back to your manager or something?"

"No. Blue Rose and Fire Emblem are delaying, and Dragon Kid is raiding everything connected to you to make sure you don't have a bandsaw at the ready." He hesitated, then plowed on. "Why do YOU do it? Does it help? I mean, I know it doesn't HELP help, I just want to, um—"

"Don't even," I snapped. "Don't even go there. If you dare pick up a knife, I will run you through with a lamppost, do you understand me?"

He nodded frantically, then practically _scurried_ away. I frowned after him, then shrugged, eliciting a hiss and a wince. Eh… I'll be okay. It's only a small cut. It'll heal relatively soon. But in the meantime, every movement earns a throb of hot pain, which, for some reason, makes ignoring the world easier. Not like the normal distraction, though that IS there; more like something to fall back on, something to take my mind away from everything. I'm not asleep. But I can feel like I am. I can walk as if in a dream. I can take my emotions and erode them with the assurance that none of this is real. I can ignore the things that make me want to scream. I can hide from the world, if I bury myself in pain and the slow drip of blood. I can hide…

He suddenly appears before me, and I snatch my hand away from my shoulder. "Uh. Hi."

"Hi." He looked a bit sheepish, a little inquiring, extremely curious. "Ehm. I, ah…"

"So was this the job your uncle said you were applying for?" I blurted, then immediately wanted to kick myself. "I mean, um, he, uh, h-he said you were, er—"

"I'm sorry!" he burst out, and I stuttered to a halt. "I… I'm sorry. For… for saying I didn't… I didn't trust you." His toes must be deeply engrossing, the way he was staring at them instead of me. "I do. Trust you, that is. I just never… shared it with anyone before, and… it was hard to believe that anyone could understand. I didn't mean to make you angry."

"Well, it doesn't matter now," I grumbled, adjusting my hat uncomfortably. "I'm not angry. But really. I caught some of the announcing stuff; you're the new kid, apparently?"

He nodded. I tried not to think about the very faint residue of smeared blood on the edge of his left nostril. Think of the pain, get away from the world, it's no use to you now and you're of no use to it…

A finger brushed against the outside corner of my eye, too suddenly for me to dodge. "They really aren't contact lenses, are they?" he mumbled, frowning in a way that reminded me of Kaede when she was small, frowning at her Transformers action figures when their heads popped off and wouldn't go back on. "They change color with your emotions. How does that work?"

"It's biological," I snapped, stepping away sharply. "It doesn't "work", it just happens. And anyway, yours look like mold. Mold on cheese."

I probably shouldn't have used that comparison, but for some reason, the anger that flashed across his face was intensely satisfying. If he's angry at me, then he won't try to reinstate the old order. It'll be Tony all over again. And though this made me sad, it also made me relieved, to think that I wouldn't have a friend anymore. Friends complicate things. I can survive without one. They mean nothing in the long run. Friends do not exist in this cesspool of ambition and petty squabbles. We're rivals, now, simply because we're owned by different companies.

I walked away, and he stayed put. There seemed a kind of irony in that, but I didn't care.

I'm dreaming, I'm walking in a dream, oh sweetheart I'm dreaming of you…

~~~\0/~~~

"_A… a girl? We're having a girl?"_

"_Yes." Her smile became uncertain. "Were you expecting a boy?"_

"_No." My heart was soaring. "I knew it! I knew we were gonna have a daughter!" I hugged her, hard, and she laughed and kissed my nose and disengaged from me gently._

"_Her name is Kaede, yes?" she asked. I nodded. "Alright. Let's announce to your mother and Mori first. Then we'll break it gently to my mom. She wanted a grandson."_

_I made a face and she laughed. "Your ma is so dramatic. Is that why you turned out so tolerant?"_

"_Maybe." She tapped my nose with her finger and smiled as I grumbled. "I'm getting practice, having to deal with you all the—"_

_She started coughing, so hard I had to hold her up so she wouldn't fall over. Fear in my heart; no, they said she was fine, they said she wasn't sick anymore. Did they lie? Oh, please, don't be sick, dearest, don't be hurt. Then, after a few minutes, it was done. She held on to me and just tried to breathe again. _

"_Sweetheart, maybe we should—" I started nervously._

_She cut me off. "No. We don't need to go back to the doctor. They'll try to make me take medicine." Her hands went to her stomach, and she gave me her patented glare, the one that says "You Can't Tell Me What To Do So Get Over Yourself". As always, it made my knees weak and my heart beat fast. Oh god I love this woman and her independence. "I'm not going to do that to our baby girl."_

"_But… you… what if you get sick again, and…" I couldn't think of how to say what I felt. She'd already been in the hospital a couple months ago, coughing so hard she couldn't stand, with fevers and the shakes; but medicine of the kind the doctor would try to prescribe would be unhealthy, for both mother and child. I didn't know. I don't know. Why do I always look to her for approval? For decisions? Because I can't be whole without her, not anymore. Sure, at work I'm fine, but when I come home I am hers. And I don't want her to be angry or sad._

"_I'll be fine. WE'LL be fine." She hugged me tightly, and I hugged back. "It's just a thing from when I was a kid. I'll get better, and we'll be a family. Alright?"_

"_Okay. I love you."_

"_I love you too, silly."_

~~~\0/~~~

"Another dream?"

I nodded, rubbing my eyes distractedly. "I miss her," I mumbled. "I don't know why, but suddenly, last night, I just… I missed her."

Tony nodded slowly, attention turned inwards. "Yeah. I get that. But… the new kid. That's the brat that used to keep calling you, right?"

"Yes."

"Did you dream of her because of him?"

"I… I don't know." For some reason, I felt a bit lost and alone. "I don't think so. She was just on my mind." Then I blinked, and gave him a sharp look. "Wait… why are you waiting right outside my building? Are you TRYING to stalk me?"

He didn't answer, just pointed to a little white plate on the main doors. Before I could ask what it was, I saw Ben trudging toward us, looking more worried and careworn than usual. Seeing Tony beside me, he seemed to become even more depressed. I took this, rightly so, as a bad sign.

"Hey, big man," Ben greeted me, without enthusiasm. "You read the announcement yet?"

"No… what announcement?" I demanded nervously.

Ben pointed to the white plate, too.

I looked from him to Tony and back. Neither of them looked very encouraging. So I squared my shoulders, braced myself for bad news, and went over to read it.

"…WHAAAAAAT?!"

"Jesus, easy there, big guy," Ben exclaimed, alarmed as he held up his hands in warding. "It's not that bad."

"I've been here for ten years, and suddenly we're all out of a job?! What the hell is this, a fucking climax in a fucking anime or something? Why didn't anyone TELL me?!" I probably shouldn't be so angry, but goddamnit, this is one of the worst happenings in my life. And just after last night? Oh, god, what is the world coming to?

"Because the transaction just went through this morning." Ben held out a business card, and I snatched it from him. Apollon? Why does that sound familiar? "Don't worry, the guys who bought us out wanted to buy you, too. So you're safe."

"But… but… what about…"

"The bigwigs got nice benefit packages, the employees get hefty bonuses, and I know my cousin is gonna get me a job. So that's all of the rest of the company taken care of." Ben gave Tony a hard glare. "Are you any good with directions?"

I snorted. "Ohhh no. He's not allowed to follow me. I've got enough going on without him fucking things up."

"Oy, quit swearing, asshole," Tony rumbled. "I'm not going to be following, either. I'm going to be directing you. That's different."

"Alright then." Ben shrugged and sighed and tried to smile. "Well, see ya around, big guy."

I just stared as he turned and walked away.

My company… bought out? Gone? Disappeared? No… no, this isn't how it's supposed to go, why does everything have to go wrong NOW? Why can't they string it out? Why can't I deal with one problem at a time? Oh god… my head hurts just thinking about it. Damn it, Benny, this is your fault isn't it, it's all YOUR fault, damn it I want to hit something, why does the ring have to be closed at this hour?

"Oy. Kotetsu."

I didn't answer.

"Hey, your phone is ringing."

I won't answer.

"Kotetsu!"

"I don't care."

"Well, I do." Tony snatched my phone from my pocket and answered it. "Hello? Oh, hi, Mrs. Kaburagi. Yeah, Kotetsu's not feeling well, he's kinda in shock at the moment… His company got bought out and nobody warned him. Well, I don't know if he's been eating "right", but he's not getting fat or turning into a wraith or falling over like he's dead, so I guess he's doing okay. Oh… last night?"

He looked to me for confirmation, but I ignored him.

"Yeah. That was him. He looked like a rich-boy scumbag to me, but that's just my opinion. She does? Huh. Okay, hold on." Tony nudged my shoulder, hard, making me hiss a little in pain. "Oy, your daughter wants to talk to you."

"She does?" I asked stupidly, accepting the phone. "Um. Hi."

"_Dad, did you see the new HeroTV?!"_

Oh god. "Y… yeah, I did. Why?"

"_That new guy, Barnaby. My friend said that her parents were angry that he showed up, because he ruined a perfectly good episode. What did you think?"_

"Oh… I didn't really think much of it. It's a new kid, so what. He'll probably drop after about a month. He looks a bit weak, and he doesn't have much personality, does he?"

"_Well, I guess so, but he's so PRETTY!"_

"Pretty should not be a word that can be connected to a boy," I muttered, rubbing my forehead. "I'd say he's the same as every other idiot who happens to be famous for his face."

"_You just don't like ANYBODY, do you?" _she huffed, and I could just see her, hand on hip, her disapproving frown, that unconscious little pout that made her scary instead of cute. Like her mama.

"Well, I guess not, no." Ow, my head. "Nobody 'cept you and gramma."

"_Not even Uncle Mori?"_

I had to grin at that. "No, not even Uncle Mori."

"_Hmph. Well, I still think he's pretty. When are you coming home?"_

Wow, way to catch me off guard there, kiddo. "Uh… when do you want me to?"

"_Soon as you can. And why did you change your number?"_

"Er… I was getting a lot of calls from people with the wrong number. I still have my old number, it's just on a different phone. I don't know when I can come home… I just got transferred to another building, with a new boss and everything, so it probably won't be for at least two weeks, I'm thinking. Maybe three."

"_Well… if you're not here by the first of April, I'll… I'll send Uncle Mori to get you!"_

I couldn't help a little laugh. "Funny, that's exactly what gramma said. I'll be good, I promise."

"_Good. Bye, daddy."_

"Bye, baby-girl. I love you."

"_Mm-hm."_

She handed off the phone and Muramasa's voice came through.

"_Yo, brat. How are you in the Big Star?"_

"Hello to you too, Mori. I'm good. How's the store?"

"_Business could be better, but well enough. The new kid on HeroTV—"_

"—Is going to give up halfway through the first day," I predicted, interrupting him. Eh… might as well get walking. I did so. "He's not good for anything but social gatherings and drawing customers."

"_Your mysterious phone friend, I presume?"_

My jaw tightened. "Not anymore."

"_Oh, yeah, I forgot. Your PREVIOUS mysterious phone friend?"_

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. He's an idiot."

"_I get that. Was that why you socked him in the face?"_

"He startled me." I glanced at the address on the business card and stuffed in my pocket. "I didn't expect him to be so conceited and snotty. He's an insult to the HeroTV empire."

"_You're right," _Mori sighed. _"He's even prettier than Blue Rose, and smirking like he owns the world doesn't help him. And what does he have going for him? Does he even have a personality?"_

"He used to." I crossed without looking both ways and nearly got run over by a minivan. "Aiya! Jesus, don't people slow down in this place? He used to be one of those idiots who make you feel superior because they don't know how to function properly. I guess I encouraged him too much, and now he's a narcissist. I take full responsibility for telling him it's okay to not know anything about women."

"_Huh. That's quite a makeover. Are you sure it's not just a front?"_

I thought about the latest "conversation" I'd had with him and felt something inside curdle and make me feel nasty. "If it was a front, I'd've known. It's not." The curdling spread. "He really is that much of an asshole."

Mori switched the subject, and we made inane chatter until I felt better. Then ma was on the horn, and I had to keep explaining that I was fine, I was just pissed off at all the changes happening around me, all at the same time. She didn't believe me. I didn't mind.

I noticed I was lost when I saw a little kid staring helplessly up at a balloon caught in a tree. There was nothing that looked familiar within sight, and Tony seemed just as lost as me.

The little boy made a little sniffling noise. I handed ma off to Tony for a minute, took a few running strides, kicked off from a lamppost, and managed to somehow snag the balloon on my way to the ground.

His face lit up. "Wow! Thank you, mister, that was cool!"

I grinned back. "Thanks, I guess, and you're welcome. I hate it when my balloons fly away, too."

Why do little kid smiles look so much happier than adult's? "Thanks, and again, thanks!" And he took off, skipping and making whooshing noises as he made his balloon bounce along with him.

For some reason, my grin faded. A Sky High fan, huh? There seemed to be a lot of those around…

"Do you want to talk to your mom some more?" Tony asked dryly, holding out my phone. I stood, brushed myself off, and accepted it.

"Sorry, ma, civil duties and all that. Where were we?"

"_Oh, it doesn't matter, the soup is burning. Have a good day, dear."_

"Uh. You too, ma."

She hung up, and I just stared at my phone for a minute. Burning soup, my ass. Am I really that boring of a conversationalist?

Doesn't matter.

I stuffed my phone away and stomped off in a random direction, trying to be angry at the world. This did not work, because Tony was still following me. "Damn it, Tony, why the hell are you still here?!"

"Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble," he pointed out with a shrug. "Might as well be someone who can pin you and tie you up if need be."

"I don't NEED someone to keep me out of trouble!" It all just suddenly boiled over. I couldn't think why, it just did. "I don't need a bodyguard, or a nanny, or anything! I am perfectly capable of dealing with life, so LEAVE ME ALONE GOD DAMN IT!"

"Says the guy who can't have a civil conversation with anyone but his mother."

"Shut up! I'm an adult and so are you, so stop following me like a mother hen, alright? What do you get out of it, anyway? Do you get off on stalking people, you sick bastard?"

"It's not stalking! I'm trying to help—"

"Oh, so taking my phone and trying to prevent me from ever having any kind of friend ever is considered HELPING?! Stop policing me like I'm a little kid! Go force yourself on Nathan why don't you, I'm sure HE wouldn't mind having you one foot behind him at all times, in fact I bet he'd LIKE it—"

"Tú eres mi hermeno y yo te protegeré."

"Anata ga kirai na hitodeari, watashi wa anata o nikumu!"

"Since when is it legal to insult me in a language I don't know?!"

"Anata no haha wa eien ni jigoku no pitto de moeru kamo shiremasen."

"Damn it, Kotetsu!"

"Anata no chichi wa wāmudesu!"

"Shut up!"

"Kami wa anata no senzo ni shōben!"

"What's going on here?"

I glared at the police officer who had suddenly appeared beside us. I'd run out of insults anyway, I hadn't spoken in my native tongue for so long. "Nothing illegal except that this bastard won't leave me the hell alone."

"I see." The police officer eyed Tony dubiously.

Tony cut right to the chase. "He's angry because he doesn't want me ruining his love life."

This was so insulting that I couldn't even think of a good curse to throw at him. "You… YOU ASSHOLE!"

"Well, why else would you be so pissed off?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you won't SHUT UP and STOP ACTING LIKE YOUR MOTHER?!"

"Don't you DARE mention my mother, you little—"

"AHEM."

We both subsided again, me trembling with the urge to kill, Tony shaking with both bloodlust and fear. He knows I could do it. He was the one who stopped me, with the arsonist who went to the ICU. I would've killed a lot of people, if I hadn't had my boys to back me up and calm me down. But I can't, not over this little thing. However much the urge increases, it would be silly to kill him over this little squabble, when there could be more later on that would actually deserve a nice, painful death.

The officer opened a little notebook thingy. "I'm gonna have to ask you two to leave the park, in two different directions, mind you," he added with a brief glare at Tony. "If I get any more complaints, I'll have to take you into custody."

"Yes, sir," we both chorused, then, with a final snarl, I turned sharply and walked away. I don't want to deal with that bastard anymore. Let him go back to his people and don his metal casing and be an asshole. Why does he even need that getup, anyway? Doesn't matter. Move along, Kotetsu.

Where the hell is this place, anyway? I'm so confused. Is it down this road? No? Damn. Down here? Ach, no. Well, shit, where the hell is—oh, there it is.

It was a rather large building. Very large, in fact. Very, very large.

"Holy shit," I whispered, staring up at it queasily. "I am not going all the way up there."

But when I asked the receptionist about where this "Mr. Lloyds" guy was, she pointed to the elevators and said, "He's on floor number twenty. Who should I tell him is here?"

"Er, Kaburagi," I said, feeling a bit nervous. Nobody ever gets my name right. "Kotetsu Kaburagi."

She stared at me blankly for a minute. "What is that, German?"

"Japanese," I corrected her, my heart sinking. "Just… tell 'im Kotetsu, I guess, if that's easier."

"…Okay." She picked up her phone, dialed the extension, hesitated, then looked up again. "How do you say that again?"

So I had to coach her in how to say it properly, then how to spell it because Mr. Lloyds (or his secretary or assistant or whatever) didn't know how to pronounce it either, and then I had to explain that the T in 'tsu' is not a sharp, separate sound, like so many people like to believe. As usual, I had to use tsunami as an example (stupid ignorant Americans ((no no no just shut up))) to get her/them/him/whoever to understand. And she STILL said it wrong.

I gave up after about a quarter of an hour of explanations and told them to just say Tiger was here. THAT got through properly, at least, and the receptionist nodded and said, "Okay, he said you can come up now."

"Thank you," I replied, and pretended I didn't see her rub her forehead with a brief expression of frustrated confusion. I kind of felt bad for her, but at least she could forget it soon. And maybe he'd give me an open-door policy after all this struggle.

The minute I saw his face I wanted to slam my head against the wall repeatedly. His smirk said it all; obviously, this was a man who would go through any indignation to make others suffer. I felt bad for everyone who ever even had to share a sidewalk with him on the street.

He took one look at me and said, "How unfortunate that you're so much older and uglier than Barnaby. But you have been with the heroes for about a decade now, so that gives you a bit of a reputation."

I just stared at him for a second. "…Please tell me you didn't just say Barnaby's with your company."

"Well, not expressly, but I didn't expect you to pick up on it so quickly. Yes, he is."

"Can you fire me, please?" I asked weakly.


	7. Chapter 7

We stood back to back and I scanned my half of the alleyway. Nothing. Nothing living, that is; it was strewn with trash and a dumpster and some poor homeless bastard's sleeping bag, now ripped to shreds by machine guns (thankfully without him/her inside it). I flipped my visor up to view things better (I hate all those lines and green tints and moving bits), but still nothing.

"All clear," I muttered, nudging him a bit.

He nudged back. "Empty here, too."

"Well then, why the hell aren't we moving?"

"Look up."

I looked up, and my heart sank. "Aww, shit."

The guy with a shot gun fired, and I dropped to my knees, grabbing his elbow to pull him down, too. He made no noise, but yanked out of my grip and twisted around, lobbing a nice big smoke grenade up at the sniper. It popped open, and its pressurized contents exploded out, completely enveloping the sniper. His surprised (and by the sound of it, painful) coughing was loud enough that I could hear them even as we emerged out on the main street.

Bunny whirled and punched my shoulder. "Now would be a good time to use those famous wires."

I struggled not to pass out from pain. "Don't hit me, brat," I snapped, but when the guy stumbled out of the cloud of poisonous gases (damn, did Saito have a mean streak), I wrapped his knees and pulled him off the edge of the building. Bunny caught him. The helicopter flew by overhead, with the voice-over guy screaming hysterically about points and who was the best tonight and all that. I took several deep breaths and forced myself not to think of the pain in my shoulder.

Bunny (formerly known as Benny) noticed I was lagging. "Hey. Are you alright, old man?"

"Fine," I ground out. "I'm perfectly fine."

He didn't seem to believe me, but shrugged and led the way back to the van.

I managed to wait until Bunny left before I fell over and passed out.

~~~\0/~~~

"…_said you'd come to…"_

"…_is Saito…"_

"…_on, old man…"_

"…_is your fault..."_

"…_so cool!…"_

"… _can quit…"_

"…_hate you, you brat…"_

"…_is not Bunny…"_

"…_not how I said…"_

"…_worry about you…"_

"…_fine, ma…"_

"…_said you'd come home! You lied to…"_

"…_old man…"_

"…_stop it you…"_

"…_so much blood…"_

"…_why do…"_

"_Because."_

~~~\0/~~~

"Hey. Wake up."

I tried to ignore that voice, but then decided not to after a few seconds. Bunny's face swum into view slowly, and I scowled at him. "Whaddayawah?" I slurred. He interpreted this correctly, which makes him the fourth person in the world who has ever been able to understand me when I'm tired, as "What the hell do you want, I'm trying to fucking sleep."

"You're bleeding again. And we're back." I don't know why I let him do it, but he pushed up my sleeve and took off the lower bandages. "Undo the rest. Mr. Lloyds wants to see us. Now."

"Screw Mr. Lloyds," I muttered, but sat up anyway. He left the van, and I scowled after him, but took off my vest, tie, and shirt and replaced my bandages. It's a relief that he doesn't fuss like ma, but it's a bit annoying that he doesn't care. Hell, even Nathan looks a bit put out when I can't move my arm for fear of busting open one of the scars. Tony has long since given up. Everybody else has forgotten, except that sometimes Rose will catch me rubbing my arm and she'll have this really weird, doubtful expression that looks like she's going to cry. Then she'll see me looking and she'll quick turn back to whatever she was doing.

Mr. Lloyds doesn't know. Saito doesn't know. Agnes doesn't know. Nobody knows…

"Oh, stop it, Kotetsu, you idiot," I grumbled to myself. "You aren't a mental patient or an emo or a scene kid or a faker, so stop being all depressed and shit."

But I'm not depressed. Or, I don't think so, at least.

Mr. Lloyds looked a little disapproving as I sidled in the room and snuck up behind Bunny. I don't know why, but this is kind of my ritual; Bunny pretended not to know I was there, then dodged as I went for a punch to the back of his head.

"You need to stop doing that," he rebuked me, with his usual air of being completely and utterly uninterested. "Another commercial, you said? With whom?"

"Cadillac, actually. They want Saito to work with their auto designers to come up with something similar to your bikes, but reminiscent of their newest monstrosities." He shrugged and tugged his cuffs straight. "I, personally, enjoy Ferraris."

"Lincoln," I put in, "Is better than either of those."

"No comment," Bunny murmured.

"Well, no comment or not, we've signed them and Saito is prepared to deal with them. However, he claims he requires an interpreter. And he asked for your aid specifically, Wild Tiger."

Bunny gave me a startled and offended glare. I just rubbed the back of my neck uneasily. "Uh… he did?"

"He said he trusts you," Mr. Lloyds explained, with a sour expression like he'd just been refused a new Ferrari with doubled horsepower. "What he means by that, I cannot say."

"Oookay then." Jesus, my arm hurt. "When does he "require" me?"

"In about five minutes." Mr. Lloyds smiled as I stared at him, feeling a slow terror engulf me. "You'd best run."

I ran.

I got there just as the guys from Cadillac arrived, and they stared as I gulped air and leaned on the doorway. My knees were a bit shaky. "Just… got your… message," I gasped out to Saito. "Mr. Lloyds… didn't warn me."

His lips moved, but I couldn't hear him, as per usual. I growled a bit to myself and stomped over to him. "Damn you and your inability to talk normal! What'd you say?"

"I said I forgive you," he repeated, with his usual patience. "Please inform these young fools they look ridiculous in those suits."

I glanced up at the visitors and struggled to repress a grin. "Ah. That's why you need an interpreter." I straightened and pointed to a couple chairs that had been pulled up (the comfy office kind) within conference distance to Saito's seat. I swear, that man never stands up. "He says hi, and you can sit wherever."

They still looked confused and uncertain, but the elder came forward, hand extended in a gesture of faith. "Hello, Dr. Saito, Mr. Wild Tiger. I am Tripp Gallery and this is Andrew, my assistant."

"Hello," Andrew said behind him, slipping into the chair farthest from Saito. He looked very nervous. First time at an out-of-office meeting, eh?

Saito stared at Tripp's proffered hand as if it were a disturbingly fascinating new type of animal. I sighed and shook my head.

"Doc, this is no time to act like a reclusive android. Shake the man's hand and get this over with." I grabbed an extra chair and rolled it over, sitting in it backwards so I could rest my arms and chin on the back. Saito shook Tripp's hand with no little trepidation, and Tripp sat, unnerved. Saito beckoned imperiously; I rolled over to him for his next decree.

"They are unprepared and technologically out of date. Explain my grand invention."

"Which one?"

"The one from five years ago, with eighteen patents and counting. The hologram."

"Ohhh, that one. Will do." I rolled a little away, towards the visitors. "He wants to show you something, because he thinks your tech gear is lame."

Tripp looked offended; Andrew seemed hurt. Saito gave a little grin and tapped a button.

The floor opened.

Andrew yelped, and I almost did too. I will never get over how realistic his holograms look. But from the middle of the vast, empty blackness that was his personal window into deep space, a tiny blue square, about an inch in width and length, flickered into being. It rose to become a one-by-one-by-one inch cube, which broke away from the empty place and ascended to about two feet off the ground. Andrew stared, fascinated; Tripp looked down his nose at it. I grinned and looked to Saito for permission; he nodded imperiously.

I rolled forward (Andrew gasped as I glided across space) and tapped the cube. Its sides blasted outward, engulfing me and stopping right at Saito and our visitors' feet. The tingle of pixels and signals and electricity is always a strange one, but I like it. A model of the newest Cadillac popped up; I spun it a few times, rolled it, and cut it in half, revealing its entire inner workings. Tripp stifled some little noise as I enlarged the model, backing up a little so I wasn't so far in, and removed all the parts with a couple flicks, leaving only the framework. Saito was looking particularly pleased with my performance and the reddening of Tripp's face. I, personally, enjoyed Andrew's starry gaze as he beheld the magnificence that was this awesome hologram.

Saito spoke; inside the cube, he was magnified, though outside he was still inaudible. "Pluck the information from their briefcases."

"Yessir." I made a pinch'n'pull motion with my right hand, and two little dots flew out of the modest, faux-leather cases, enlarging to show two workscreens absolutely cluttered with files. Saito frowned.

"Now, that won't do. Take only the pertinent information."

I tapped the files that said "Apollon petition" (nice, clear names on these desktops) and threw away the extraneous bits. I positioned them all neatly in a wall between Saito and the visitors and rolled to the very edge of the square to admire my handiwork.

"Good. Tell them their planning is poor, and the aerodynamics of this car are weak as a newborn kitten. The framework is unwieldy and ugly. The positioning of the tires is faulty. The body is slung too low. It will fail every quality test I put it through."

"Because you're a sadistic perfectionist," I told him, then grinned at Andrew and Tripp. "He said your plans suck."

Andrew blushed guiltily, but Tripp grew very indignant. "Now, see here, you inconsiderate little—"

"Bite him," commanded Saito. I laughed and shook my head.

"Nope, no can do. Mr. Lloyds would fire us both on the spot. As for YOU," I continued, spinning to face Tripp, "If you must know, this is his exact wording; The aerodynamics are weak, the frame is terrible, the tires are faulty, and the body is too low. He will find a way to prove his point. Now. YOU, my fine, faux-Italian suited friend, are an asshole for thinking this plan was worth anything. It sucks."

"Um, can I…?" Andrew began weakly, then gulped as all of us looked at him. "Can I… sh-show you my idea?"

"No," Tripp snapped, frowning thunderously. "You're only an intern. This is a PROFESSIONAL meeting."

"Not really, not anymore," I contradicted cheerfully. "Right, open that laptop, sonny, and show us whatcha got."

Tripp blustered, Saito frowned, and Andrew fumbled the latches on his case open, hands all shaky from excitement. The little screen inside fizzed to life, and after a second's hesitation, he set it on the night sky and slid it into the blue square.

"Which files?" I asked, rolling over to it. "These ones that say personal?"

"Um, the second one down, yes," he stuttered, a sudden blush making me wonder what could be in the first folder. I just shrugged and snatched the icon out of the chip.

"Hmm," Saito mumbled. "Enlarge the front axle."

I obeyed.

"Not too shabby. And the shaft?"

I scrolled along it to the back axle, which he also hummed and nodded over. He went through every detail, then demanded I reduce it again and spin it. The files were flat images, but from several angles, so it wasn't that hard to piece it together and blend it all to one 3D. Some minor perspective flaws were smoothed out, and all in all, the kid's version was much better than the old guy's.

"I love that," I said simply, pointing to the unnecessary paintjob of flames on the sides, a skull on the hood, and a dragon with a crystal ball on the trunk. "That is awesome. It should be mandatory."

"You are not sixteen, Tiger," Saito reminded me. "Be happy with beige."

"Beige is boring," I whined, snapping my fingers and grabbing the eraser from the bar of virtual tools that appeared beside the 3D image. I hated ruining the kid's work, so I made a copy and flicked the original back to his computer before erasing the paint. "There. Better now?"

"Yes, much better."

He thought for a moment, then narrowed the blue box so it only contained the image, and I was left in space again with the rest of them. I wheeled away a bit, then rolled closer to Saito so I could hear him.

"These are better, but they will be grand when I am done with them." He pursed his lips, then spun around and tapped some buttons on his immense array. Two more images appeared, to hover above the car; mine and Bunny's bikes. He spun back around and stared at the three images.

I tilted my head and squinted. My bike was decidedly more masculine than Bunny's. And I liked its name; Lonely Chaser. It's a good name. I like it very much. I'm tired. My arm is throbbing again. Andrew stared intently, too, and Tripp was looking around listlessly, pretending not to be interested. I narrowed my eyes and rolled over to him and Andy.

"Oy. So, whatcha think of The Space?" I tapped my heel against the floor. "It's about six years old, now. Almost twenty patents. Everything else, he shamelessly steals." I grinned as Tripp glared at me. "Hey, just tryin' to make conversation. What kind of gadgets do you guys have?"

"The standard," Tripp grunted.

"Nothing a cool as this," Andy muttered enviously, staring down into the darkness. "Wow, there's even galaxies and star systems…"

"He's obsessed with infinity. Infinite energy, ever-lasting materials, the boundaries of time and the human mind." I shrugged as they both stared at me. "Hey, his words, not mine. He's a mechanical engineer, though, not a physicist or a philosopher. That makes his opinion automatically invalid. Ow!"

Saito frowned disapprovingly, another pen balanced dangerously in his chubby little fingers. I retreated from the guests obediently and returned to his side.

"Do not associate with those imbeciles," he commanded. "They are below even your station."

"Well, look who got out on the wrong side of the office chair," I muttered. "What, you got a mechanical bee up your ass or something? I thought you liked showing off."

"Allowing others to admire my genius is not showing off," he denied primly. "Now stop that idiot from trying to steal my ideas. It is highly annoying."

I shrugged. "Sure, sure, whatever you say, doc." I rolled across to them again and spun to be squarely in front of the hologram, blocking their view. "Hello again. The good doctor requires that you stop trying to memorize his stuff. It hurts his feelings."

Tripp seemed to be in a perpetual state of fury by now. Andy looked confused and uncomfortable. I grinned at him. "What? It's okay, he likes your ideas, sort of. That's kind of hard to do."

"It doesn't even look like a Cadillac," Tripp muttered.

"Ah, but it will once it starts getting manufactured," I predicted wisely. "OW! Damn, there has GOT to be a better system than pen throwing."

Saito simply gestured imperiously, and I, with the unhappy thought I could now possibly classify as a carrier pigeon, returned to him with another little roll.

He didn't speak, though. He simply cut all three images into pieces with his keyboard and started fiddling with the numbers. Slowly, the bike designs changed, flickering a bit as he changed their dimensions via calculator. The car didn't; its various components simply moved to a comparison angle. I'd seen this kind of thing before. He'd shown me it on my second day. I put my head down and tried to think.

Lately… well, ever since the first day, really… Bunny (so named because I was getting tired of Benny and he did a lot of jumping and those stupid antennae thingies looked, vaguely, if you had a good imagination, like rabbit ears) had been really, really awkward around me, at least out of uniform. We hadn't mentioned our previous acquaintance at all, to anyone, and yet the cameras had picked it up right away. Maybe media folk aren't so mindless after all…

But other than that, my five days were dug up again and I was slapped in the face with people predicting I'd snap and kill Bunny in as little as two, three, eight weeks, anywhere between the next day and three months in the future. Someone spread the rumour that I already had snapped, and Bunny was taking it like a good little slave. That hadn't lasted long, because it was so obvious we were avoiding each other, but that had still been very uncomfortable to hear about. Once, a guy at a press release asked, very slyly, if Bunny was into S&M. I laughed so hard when Bunny broke his nose and camera that I couldn't breathe.

Only three and half weeks and people had already thrown us in bed together. Why are people such randy harpies?

I hate guys. I really do. They scare me. Hell, I'm scared of MYSELF, sometimes, so that's a pretty good warning sign, yes? And yet, the minute a "hot" new guy comes along, everyone automatically assumes I'm going to molest him. Is it because I haven't shown any kind of interest in anyone for so long? People are gross.

Worse than the S&M rumours, though, are the ones that say HE'S the one who molests ME, and that's why I avoid him with a vengeance. Bullshit, of course, but they make me want to hit someone. Therefore, I've been visiting The Ring more often. As I suspected, everyone thinks my injuries are caused by my work.

Sometimes I want to find a nice girl and just have sex with her in the middle of the Square and then have to fight off her brothers. Sometimes I want to pick a fight with a police officer and start a riot. Sometimes I pick up my razor, look at it for a second, then put it down again. Not today. Not yet, at least. Wait.

A pen bounced off the back of my head. I looked up and glared at Saito. "Stop DOING that, alright?"

He pointed, I looked. His creation looked really… weird, to say the least.

It was a car, but it wasn't. It was a motorcycle, but it wasn't. It looked like an unholy union between a bicycle and a sportscar. It was a monstrosity.

And yet, it was practical to the point of obnoxious.

I stared at it. "Um. That's really… weird. Doesn't look like a Cadillac at all…"

"Not to YOU, maybe," Saito sniffed, "But to a designer, or a collector, it is perfection."

"Uh huh," I agreed doubtfully, eyeing our visitors. They had equal expressions of disbelief and horror. So I wasn't the only one who hated things that were too weird to be born of the human conscious. Good. That made me feel better. But Saito is sensitive, so I shook my head and proclaimed, "Well, I guess it's more practical than usual."

He beamed at me.

Tripp coughed, to draw our attention. He looked angrier than ever. "I thank you for your time, Doctor… Saito, Wild Tiger. We need to return to our office—"

I stood up, went to the design, and fixed it up a little. With less streamlining, pointier headlights, a longer back, and a lower setting, it looked a little better. Andrew still looked doubtful, but there was relief in his eyes. Tripp still glared. Saito threw another pen, hard enough that I yelped and it made a red welt on my face. "What, I was just trying to help! Geez, designers and their pride…"

"It looks good," Andrew piped up suddenly. "It still looks like your bikes, but it still looks like a car, too."

"See?" I announced triumphantly, "Two against two! Stalemate! You can't change it back without our consent."

"It still looks bad," Tripp muttered sullenly. Then he yelped, as HE got a pen to the face. I don't know where Saito keeps his writing utensils, but I suspect he has a magical pocket that holds infinite pens, all red ink. The blues are limited to about two hundred.

Saito himself humph'd and hmm'd and twitched a few details. It looked slightly better than my clumsy mutilation, but Tripp, Andrew, and me all made faces. In a bold move, Tripp stood, came forward, and reached within the matrix to nudge the roof so it sloped at a higher degree. Andrew joined him and pushed the roof down two degrees, which was still higher than originally. Saito relented and expanded the hologram, encasing all four of us in the blue glow and expanding the car to real life proportions. Our visitors jumped in alarm, but I grinned and opened the passenger side door to inspect the seating. Andrew followed my example with the driver's side.

This collaboration went on for a couple hours, actually, all in silence. If any of us had spoken, the rest would have expelled the speaker. There were some stalemates over certain aspects, which meant they weren't changed. Eventually, we all agreed on something that reminded me of my bike, but reminded the others of a car. Which meant it was disturbing, in a pit-of-your-stomach, uneasy, Chthulu kind of way. Or maybe that's just my inner poet practicing a little too hard.

We all stepped back to view the design, and at that moment, Bunny arrived.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry for interrupting, but the old man and I—" he began. Saito hit him right in the solar plexus with one of his special blue pens.

"Silence!" the little engineer barked. "We are in the middle of a delicate operation!"

"Stitching looks weird," I muttered, tweaking its placement on the backseat.

"Stitching is fine," Tripp disagreed, sliding it back in place.

Bunny stared at us incredulously. "…Delicate?"

"Yes, delicate." I glared back at him briefly over the hood of the holographic car. "Is this gonna be computer animated, or built for real?"

Tripp and Andrew looked at each other for a moment. Then Tripp shrugged. "That's something for the engineers to work on. We're just on the design team."

"If it is built for a test course, it would be best to have Barnaby and Wild Tiger ride beside it. If it is animated, I cannot help you," Saito informed them. "The comparison must be made, however."

"What if people start wanting this as an actual car?" I asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but not really caring. "Like, have it on the market?"

"I don't think so," Andrew answered, looking queasy.

"It's disgusting," Bunny muttered.

"They won't want it," Tripp declared firmly.

~~~\0/~~~

"They want it."

"…Oh god."

~~~\0/~~~

I tried to ignore the Cadillac growling impatiently behind me, impossible though that was. It was the topic of discussion at the moment. Well, argument.

"I am NOT driving in that!"

"It's got eighty horsepower!" Andrew enticed, his face white and sweaty as whey. How he could be so scared of me, I will never know. "A-and fifty miles to the gallon! And—and—"

"Stop lying!" I snapped, and he shut up. "It's bullshit! It's ugly! I am NOT gonna be seen in that—that—"

"Monstrosity?" Bunny suggested.

"Yeah, that! I hate Cadillacs, anyway. They're all ugly, and this one is the worst! I don't wanna be seen anywhere near that—" I looked to Bunny again.

"Monstrosity," he repeated patiently.

"—not even for all the Budweiser in the world!"

"How about champagne?" Mr. Lloyds coaxed. "Or scotch?"

I paused at that. "…What kind of scotch?"

"You idiot." Bunny smacked me upside the head, and I yelped. "You don't need more alcohol."

"Well, I know that, it's just, it's tempting, alright?" I whined, rubbing the ache gingerly. "I ran out of rum a couple days ago."

Andrew gaped at me, horrified. Mr. Lloyds raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. He's had plenty of time to realize I'm an alcoholic, I don't know why it still disgusts him. Bunny isn't disgusted. Bunny's got higher standards and stricter expectations, and yet he makes allowances for my illness.

Yes. I admit that I have a medical problem. My liver is dying, isn't it?

Ah, but the alcohol, the alcohol… I've begun to hate the taste of beer, but everything else is expensive in comparison. The way I drink, it's cheaper to buy a 24-pack of Budweiser than six real high-quality ales from Germany, even if the taste and content are much, much better. Bloody Marys are the only other thing I can handle now besides beer. Vodka makes me dizzy, because I always drink too much in one sitting; but diluting it makes it my best friend.

Nowadays, the bottle and the drink are my only friends.

"You're driving it anyway," Mr. Lloyds was saying when I came back to myself. "Barnaby has admitted to being a rather poor driver, and your previous manager made note of the fact that you're a… "speed-demon", is it?"

I glowered at him. "Hey. Just because I like going fast doesn't mean I'm some kind of tame racing driver. I don't want to, so I'm not gonna."

"It is fast, actually," Andrew piped up, apologetically. "I wasn't lying about that. It can reach two hundred miles per hour."

Damn my adrenaline-junkie genes. "Two… hundred?"

"Oh lord," Bunny groaned, hiding his eyes in shame. Andrew nodded. Mr. Lloyds gave a slow, slippery, serpentine smirk.

"…gimme the keys," I demanded.

It may look hideous, but I'll give them this; it was one FAST motherfucker.

I took a test-lap, to get me back into the state of mind that had crashed five trucks, three cars, and over fifty dirtbikes. I wanted to be careful with this prototype. But the minute that gas pedal hit the floor, I lost all maturity and started laughing like a demented ten-year-old.

The corners were nothing; I barely slowed down for them. I could feel the entire car lift, soar, land with barely a jolt, oh, those shocks were beautiful, and so fastfastfastfast…! I could hear someone in the little earpiece they'd forced on me telling me to slow down before I crashed, but I ignored it. Crash? Me? When I'm going so fast the only thing not whipping by at dizzying speed is the road itself? Oh, baby, you don't know me. I would NEVER crash this beauty. The outside is nothing; the inside is gorgeous, the roar of the engine deafening and the seats the perfect distance and the only necessary buttons already on the wheel; horn, headlights, and windshield wipers. Everything else is secondary.

Speed speed speed speed speeeeeeeeed

I noticed I was talking; no, singing; singing some lullaby ma had taught me, when I was very little. Something about dreams and living to the fullest and it will all be okay again when you wake up.

I sang at the top of my lungs, unable to drown out the engine, not really giving a fuck.

Eventually, after I'd gone around the (extensive) track about five times, I screeched to a halt at the starting line, and just laughed for a little bit.

Of course, I cut myself off when the top quality-checker or whatever came scurrying over looking very pissed off. I got out, reluctantly, and couldn't help patting the hood affectionately. "I apologize," I told it sincerely. "You are an amazing piece of engineering. If you were human, I would marry you. Although, I'm kind of grateful you're not; a human can't run as fast as you drive. Hello," I greeted the irate fellow before me. "I'm having a heart-to-heart with the most gorgeous vehicle in history. D'you think you could help me convince Mr. Lloyds that it's a business expense?"

He glared at me. "You were going too fast," he informed me coldly. "The tires are ruined."

I pointed to them. "You see that tread?"

He looked. "Yes?"

"You see how those perfect, shiny treads are now all dusty?"

"Yes?"

"That's a teenager's first car. The more he wears out his tires, the more he buys. The more he buys, the more you're paid. That is also barely fifteen miles. These are good for another two years of hard driving. So, I repeat; I need your help convincing my boss that buying one of these is a business expense."

He glared at me some more. "We didn't get very good video. Your singing didn't help."

I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, I get it. I can't hold a tune. But video doesn't really matter; this shit is amazing." I saw other people approaching and perched on the hood, trying not to look too possessive. Mmm, adrenaline was still twisting through my veins. "I can do it again, if you want."

"We'd like to try Barnaby," another of the quality-control people piped up as they neared us. Barnaby himself was staring at the car as if it would bite him. "He says he can be less… manic."

"I can also drive slower," said cold-hearted rabbit added dryly. "You are completely unsuitable for any kind of driving in a metropolitan area."

"Who said this was a "metropolitan area"?!" I snapped, "This is a friggin' test track, and this happens to be my now-favorite vehicle. An' it's not my fault I was born in a sportscar. Blame my asshole of a father for that one." They stared at me blankly. I sighed and resisted the urge to punch someone. "Joke. Fine, I'll go back and complain to Mr. Lloyds. But I still want one."

"We'll give you a discount," one of the officials promised stiffly (hell, they just kept appearing like small children). "Now, will you PLEASE stop sitting on our test car?"

I glared at them all, but got up and scooted away sullenly. If they're gonna use video of Bunny going slow instead of me going fast, their loss. How are they going to advertise the speed if they don't show the speed-demon? They can talk about sophistication with Bunny, and put those commercials on the sophisticated channels; but can't they show it off on the normal-person channels? I want to get some attention… for some reason, I'm aching to be seen with this car. I want someone to care that I like it. Nobody does, though.

"Hey, old man."

I struggled not to snap at him. "Yes, brat?"

His jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. "You can put your and Rock Bison's cost on my tab for tonight."

"…Tab?" Slowly, I felt myself grin. "You're… letting me put my bill on your tab?"

"Yes."

"Do you even know how much we drink?"

"I have a good guess," he muttered. "So can you please limit yourself a little?"

"We'll try." I hesitated, then play-punched him on the jaw. "Don't smear yourself on the pavement. That thing is a beast."

He looked suspiciously like he was trying to hide a smile. "I'll be sure to remember that."

So, for some reason, I was happy enough to get through the day. I hadn't reopened my arm for five days now, and I'd only been to The Ring twice. I managed to convince Mr. Lloyds that he should help me pay for one of my own; apparently they were releasing two versions, one based on me and one based on Bunny. Mine looked tougher and manlier, if I do say so myself.

~~~\0/~~~

"_Which one should I buy?"_

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Ma, they're expensive and mostly useless. The Crusher is too fast and loud, and the Glider has too many buttons. It's really fast, too, and the shocks are better, but it's an urban car. Of course, the Crusher is better for everything else, but it's not a normal-person car."

She raised an eyebrow at me. _"A normal-person car? What, is it only for manly-men who like to zoom down empty country roads like a demon?"_

My face started getting warm. "Er, no. But it's still not very practical. Neither of them are."

"_Dad! Dad! I need to talk to you!"_

Ma handed over the handset, startled, and Kaede popped up, grinning excitedly. _"Dad! Guess what Yamato-sensei got!"_

"I have no idea. What'd he get, baby-doll?"

"_He got one of those new cars, the Glider! He said he wanted the Crusher, because it's got better horsepower and it's faster, but his wife is a Barnaby fan, so he had to get that one. It's bright red and has the Apollon symbol on the license plate, and he showed us the two different commercials they had for both of them. I like the Wild Tiger one better, too, but it looks funny."_

She talks so fast, but I felt a little glow in the pit of my stomach. She liked mine? "Eh, wives are the driving force behind every husband's decision. Why d'you like the Wild Tiger one, you told me you were a Barnaby fan too."

She shrugged. _"Mostly because of the color. And the commercial. He actually looks like he's having fun driving. Barnaby looks like he's just waiting for it to get over with. I heard he's not a very good driver, anyway."_

"Yeah, I heard the same." I look like I'm having fun? They told me not to laugh so much when I was driving it, so I tried to look cool and like it was no big deal, but they'd still been angry. Apparently I grin too much. Bunny… he'd been relieved to get out of that beautiful contraption, it was plain on his face. But the color… "I forgot, what color is it again?"

"_Dark green, with white on the tire bits and the… trim? Yeah. An' seats and stuff are white, too. Barnaby's is just red." _She made a face. _"Bright red paint and dark red inside. It's boring."_

"Kinda like Bunny," I said without thinking.

She stared at me. _"…What?"_

"Er… n-nothing, nothing," I assured her, trying to smile innocently. "Just… my train of thought is, um, kinda weird today…"

"_Did you just call Barnaby "Bunny"?" _she demanded. I shrank back into the couch a little.

"Well, does it matter what he's called?" I asked nervously. "He's still a blond pretty-boy in armor."

The anger in her eyes hurt. A lot. _"You... He is NOT a pretty-boy!"_

"He's got a pretty face, doesn't he?" I snapped back, not very convincingly. "Oh… okay, I'm sorry, daddy's sorry, baby, I didn't mean to…"

"_I hate you!"_

I flinched as she slammed the receiver in its cradle and the video screen went dead. My stomach hurt. Why do I always say the wrong thing?

I fetched a beer and watched some tv for a bit.

~~~\0/~~~

"So?"

"So what?"

"So how does it feel to have your own car?"

I glared at Tony and went back to sulking. "It feels the same as having no car. Sales are up for Glider."

"And Crusher, too."

"Yeah, but it's a higher spike."

"Yours was more popular right off the bat."

"Because of the advertisement."

"Well, you were happier than Barnaby. Even the photographs were better. He's a people-pleaser, you were actually excited."

"Barely," I mumbled, putting my head down on my crossed arms. "I just liked how fast it went. And the noise. Kaede said she liked the paintjob, but I made her angry, so I guess she hates it now."

He shoved a magazine under my nose. "Hey. Tell me this is not a better ad than Barnaby's."

It was a photo of me sitting on the roof of the test-car they'd given me (well, sold, with a discount). It had been a sort-of candid one, so I hadn't known they were taking pictures. I'd just finished playing with it and Bunny had been angry, because I hadn't had permission to drive it around yet. I was laughing at him in that one.

"…It's a picture."

"Yeah. And here's another."

Bunny's was just him posing next to it, smirking as usual. Yeah, it was boring. But mine was ridiculous. An old man, laughing like a child because he'd been given a new car? Stupid.

"Leave me alone. I want to be grumpy by myself."

"Grump all you like, we all—"

"WILD TIGER! I am jealous, I truly am! You're moving up in the world!"

I tried not to cry. "Hello, Sky. You don't have to lie, you know."

"Why would I lie! Not all of us are awarded our very own automobile design, you know." His sickeningly cheerful outlook is blinding when you're in a bad mood. He's too charismatic. It gives me a headache. "Aren't you happy? You're getting more recognition than ever."

"If I'm getting attention for any reason other than what I do as a hero, then it's not worth it," I informed him, maybe a bit too harshly. But I didn't care. "Adverts don't get you respect."

This seemed to surprise him, because he didn't immediately reply with a positive, useless tidbit of advice. Tony sighed, hit me with the rolled-up magazine, and wandered off, calling over his shoulder, "Get over yourself, Koby. The boys would kill to be in your position."

"The boys can **************." (asterisks added to protect the more delicate readers' sensibilities. I know Keith was horrified by my suggestions. He should come to the bar sometime, hear some REAL swearing.)

Tony just shrugged and continued walking.

I buried my face in my arms and tried to go back to sulking. Keith remained, however, standing a bit awkwardly, as though searching for something to say. I shook my head as well as I could.

"Please. Don't. Just leave me alone."

He hesitated, then scurried off.


	8. Chapter 8

"Stupid NEXT!"

"Idiot criminal!"

"Moron!"

"Baka!"

"Eh?"

"Different language, doesn't matter. Creep!"

"Please stop insulting the prisoner," Bunny interrupted wearily, as I and our newest catch snarled at each other. "It's not his fault he's a narrow-minded fool."

"Narrow-minded! I'll show you narrow-minded, you horse's ass, you, you—"

"Shut it!" I snapped, and kicked his balls. He squeaked and shut up.

The police came and picked him up, eyeing me warily. I ignored them. Ever since the Cadillac thingy, three other companies had tried to make us help them with THEIR products. Saito had given in and helped Ford (I refused to work with pickup trucks), but I couldn't pass up the Lincoln deal. Unfortunately, I'd had to throw the head of marketing out the window because he wouldn't stop prodding me about if I was single or not. He was very, very homosexual. And creepier than Nate. But I quit on that and refused the thing with that anime company, Sunrise or whatever. I don't watch anime. I read manga. That is different.

But I had a temper, and I'd shown it, and after the whole more-appealing-because-I-was-more-expressive-or-wh atever thing, people were "surprised" that I got angry so easily. Just because I like cars doesn't mean I'm a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. That's Sky High.

But the group had started coming back. My students. Carefully, one by one. We tried to stay off Maverick's radar, but some days, we took it out of The Ring and back to the streets after calls. That was usually when they were feeling lively and hyper and accosted me as a group, so I had no choice but to join them. Most of them were the original crew, and they brought friends; so none of us were ever wanting for sparring partners. I took it easy on them. No point smashing them into the dust when they'd finally deemed it safe to come back to me.

This somehow started being worked into my "other" persona; the part of me that wasn't a temperamental bastard, the part that everyone thought was the "real" me. I noticed it was slowly turning into my public face; the grouchy old man was starting to make way for the explosive middle-aged bastard.

I don't want this to happen.

"Ma, I don't want to be like this. They're expecting me to be… well, empty. I don't want to be a superficial mess like the others. They at least have masks, and I'm stuck here with nothing but a car ad and an attitude that they think is real."

"_Baby, I can't think of a way to help, but can't you at least try to tone it down? Throwing that man out the window… why would you do that?"_

"He was trying to get in my pants, ma," I snapped. "He wouldn't stop coming on to me, and nobody DID anything about it, so the next logical step was to get him to back off."

"_So you threw him out the window."_

"Yes."

Ma stared for a minute, then sighed and rubbed her forehead. _"Kotetsu… I love you, and you are my baby, but you have to stop letting your temper get the better of you. You were never like this before."_

"I know! That's the problem! Everyone expects it, so I do it." I thought of the shiny slashes on my arm. "They expect me to get angry at the little things, when before, it was just a kind of phase thingy. Doesn't help that Mr. Lloyds keeps bringing up the car thing… sales have gone up even more now that they're not "collectible." The contract has a thingy in it that the guys from Cadillac overlooked, saying a portion of all profits goes solely to Apollon."

"_Come home for a while. Kaede and I miss you, and it'll be good for you. You can fix things up a bit and help me with the cabbages. They need some TLC too."_

"I'm not a cabbage, ma," I reminded her dully.

"_That doesn't matter. You need a break."_

The idea… was tempting. "I don't know, ma, I don't know if he'll let me…"

"_Who, your boss?"_

"Well, no. Bunny."

She stared at me blankly. _"What?"_

I stared back. "Well… he's got more influence. Mr. Lloyds doesn't care, but if Bunny says no, Mr. Lloyds will too."

"_Why would Barnaby care?"_

"I don't know. He's weird like that. He didn't let me leave the meeting we had a couple days ago. He made Tony blackmail me into staying for an interview. He pays my bill at the bar, too."

"_HE WHAT?!"_

"_Kaede, don't shout!"_

"_Dad!" _Kaede clambered into view, snatching the handset from her grandmother and completely drowning her out. _"Did you say BARNABY pays your bill?"_

"Um—" Oh lord please forgive me. "Um, well, yes—"

"_WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"_

"Because you said you hated me the last time I said anything about alcohol."

"_Well, DUH! But—but Barnaby? THE Barnaby Brooks Jr. pays for YOUR drinking?"_

"That's what I just said."

She gaped at me, excitement rising to devour the stunned disbelief. _"Dad… dad, can I come meet him?"_

No… no, how does she do that? Suddenly I feel so much guilt, and I really do want to see her, see my baby… but Bunny… but Kaede… "I… well, let me warn him first, but… yes, I think you can."

"_YES!" _she whooped, _"YES YES YES! Daddy, I love you! You're the best daddy in the world!"_

…Well, what was I supposed to do? Leave her hanging? Nah. I called Bunny and warned him.

~~~\0/~~~

"Um… are you sure this is okay?"

His nervousness only made me grin. "Of course it is! She loves you, I don't think she'll mind you coming to meet her first thing. Just gimme a minute to say hi without her staring at you too much. She's still—"

"DADDY!"

Everything else got wiped away. "Kaede! There's my baby girl!" I scooped her up and hugged her, and felt irrationally happy when she hugged back. Oh, god, baby, I missed you. "How was the train ride?"

"Oba-san almost got sick," she informed me promptly. "Uncle Mori didn't, but he was still angry that they didn't have anything other than tea and champagne, and the tea was gross. Nobody let me try the other stuff." She wrinkled her nose and I laughed.

"Ah, you wouldn't have liked it. It's not very good for kids. Anyway, you said there was someone you wanted to meet?"

Her face lit up, and excitement waged war on alarm. "Is he here? Really? Is he?"

Anything to make you happy. "Yep. Right over thatta way." I turned a little so I could see him over my shoulder, and Kaede stared.

Bunny put on his nicest (not most welcoming, I was disappointed to see) smile and took a single step forward. "Hello. You're Kaede, right?" he asked redundantly. I s'pose it's only polite, but it seemed a bit overkill to me. But he never listens.

Kaede nodded, still dumbstruck. I went to put her down, but suddenly, inexplicably, she buried her face in my shoulder and hugged me so hard I almost couldn't breathe. Shy? Oh… yes, I remember… this is how she was when she was small. When meeting a stranger, she would hug me and hide her face until she felt it was safe to come out. She used to come to me when she was scared…

I found myself whispering to her, like I had when she was a baby; telling her stories. The stories Tomoe had told me. The little half-chant ones that could almost be nursery rhymes, but weren't really, and they were in Japanese, which I know she has trouble understanding, even today. She still relaxed her death grip on me and peeked out at him. "Hi," she mumbled, then hid again.

I was grinning. Giddily? I don't care. "Bunny, stop being intimidating. It's annoying. Didn't you say you hate putting on public faces?"

Suddenly, his mask dropped, and he glared at me. "I'm not "putting on a public face", I am trying not to let my annoyance show. You do realize we're missing—"

"You're just nervous," I jeered, cutting him off to prevent him from giving anything away. "You don't like meeting other people's kids. Or parents. Hi, ma."

"Hello," ma replied, as she approached us. Nii-san was right behind her, hauling four travel bags and trailing one (large) suitcase. "You are Barnaby, correct?"

Barnaby nodded, again plastering on a polite smile. "Yes, I am. You are…?"

"His mother. Kaburagi Anju." She still isn't used to saying first name first, which usually throws people off guard; Bunny just smiled again and shook her hand before his eye alighted upon Muramasa.

As is typical, my tactful nii-san had to start off with, "You're shorter than I thought you'd be."

Kaede stifled a snort, ma's lips tightened incrementally, and I sniggered at the look on Bunny's face. Bunny himself regained control and tried to remain pleasant. "Well, I apologize for falling "short" of your expectations. You're his brother, aren't you? The lack of tact gives it away."

Ma glared at him, Kaede gaped a little, nii-san narrowed his eyes, and I kicked Bunny hard in the knee, making him stumble. "Oy! Mind your manners, rabbit! Nobody likes an idiot who insults new acquaintances." He gave me a sardonic glare, and I scowled. "That was one time, darn it!"

Kaede pushed herself away a little, and I set her down. I forgot how heavy she is. She's growing too fast.

"Um… um…" she mumbled. Bunny snapped back to dealing-with-people-other-than-me mode and pretended to be waiting politely for her to say something. Ma took the first shot, though. Kaede looked disappointed, but relieved.

"I apologize for my sons. They haven't quite grown up. Are you going to accompany us far?"

"Only to the old man's place. Then I have to get back to Apollon. Mr. Lloyds has a few new assignments for me; I have to fill in for Wild Tiger, as well." He pointedly didn't look at me, but I could feel his disapproval. Sometimes I wonder if he misses the anonymous caller with "pretty" eyes. I certainly miss Benny. He was a much nicer person. But this version is alright too, I guess, when he isn't being an asshole to my family. Why am I thinking on the past?

"I am NOT an old man!"

"You certainly act like it."

"And YOU act like a spoiled brat!"

"I am not a brat. I may be spoiled, but that's because I actually have friends and am thankful for my situation in life. It's pitiful, really, that you don't have a social life outside of work, and even then no one can stand you."

He's being mean because he's uncomfortable. He's not doing this on purpose. He doesn't mean it. He's being grouchy because he doesn't know how to BE. "Then why do YOU care?"

He shrugged. "I guess you're just amusing."

Kaede's face was a study in confusion and distress, ma just raised her eyebrows, and nii-san was struggling not to laugh.

Is it sad that this has been the meanest he's been to me in months? Probably. And it's sad that I'm not used to it. Well, not from him, at least; everyone else I can take it from. "Amusing? Ha! YOU'RE the one who can't—"

"Kotetsu! Shush," ma commanded, and I shushed. Why are you getting mad at ME? It's not my fault he's infuriating. "May we move on, please? We are attracting attention."

And we were. People were whispering and staring. Nii-san glared at me, I glared back, and I started walking. "My car is over this way. My boss gave me a loan, so I have double-time, but at least it's not a junk heap like Mori's. And I don't have to ask Nathan for rides."

"Isn't Nathan the rich gay guy?" Nii-san asked as we set off. Kaede caught my hand again, and grabbed ma's too. Replace ma with Tomoe, and it would have been…

"Yeah. His car is nice, even if it is useless. A'course, mine is too, kinda…"

"Oh, WOW!" Kaede interrupted. "You've got a first-edition?!"

I tried not to grin as I fished my keys out of my pocket. "Eh. It didn't quite pass quality standards, so my boss handed it off to me. Honestly, I'd rather have a useful car like a Subaru, but this one was almost free, so I—"

"I call front!" she interrupted, and scrambled in the passenger side before anyone could protest. "Dad, dad, how much ARE the first-editions?"

"Er…" I looked to Bunny, who shrugged, also baffled. "I have no clue. A lot, I guess. All I know is, I've got double-time for three months to pay this thing off. Like I said, not very practical. Anyone wanna drive? No? Good, this thing hates everyone anyway."

It doesn't. I helped Mori load everything, ma bullied Bunny into riding with us, and the engine rumbled happily when I turned the key. It's a beast of the apocalypse, and that makes it beautiful. Although, I think it really does have favorites; I got drunk and Tony tried driving and we almost had an accident. He'd said it bit him, metaphorically.

It's never bitten me. It likes me. I had a conversation with my passengers, which Bunny marveled at ("Wild Tiger can't do more than curse when he's driving,") and nii-san just shrugged ("We've had violent arguments in the van, 'specially when I first started driving.").

Kaede kept staring in the mirror at Bunny, and sometimes she'd stare at me, especially when I started getting too loud. The acoustics in that vehicle are actually very good. Bunny kept watching us, our interactions; he might have been jealous. Maybe. I don't know. I know he misses having a parental figure; Maverick isn't good enough (he never was, never will be, never is). But I am not going to be his rock anymore. I am trying not to be. And anyway, my family is my concern.

"Why is your house so small?" was the first thing Kaede said.

"It's not that small," I protested. "It goes back a ways, and it fit the three of us just fine—" I cut myself off, because suddenly the memories made me hurt. I have all of them here… except for…

Everyone else was suddenly quiet, too. I pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, unlocked the doors, stepped out—

"Bridget, no!"

I slammed the door shut again before Bridget could bite my face off and huddled as far from the door as possible, as the mastiff clawed the door and started howling. She and her humans had moved in a couple days ago, and Bridget had decided she hated me. Her humans weren't very good at controlling her.

Kaede yelped, but nii-san just climbed out, blocking the dog's attempts to get in through the back door, and grabbed her collar, heaving her back to face her mother, who was cooing and babbling and being angry at him for man-handling her dog. Bridget slobbered and growled and continued her attempts to maim me. I sank down in my seat until I was invisible through the window.

Bunny was the next to brave the beast. He went out and managed to calm the mother, a bedraggled older woman still in her bathrobe and wellingtons, as nii-san held Bridget steady. Ma sat calmly in the back and waited for the hubbub to die down.

"What did you DO?" Kaede whispered, staring out the window. "That dog hates you."

"I made the mistake of petting her," I explained, starting to get irritated. "This is the third time this month. It was just a pet and suddenly she tried to bite my arm off… AIYA!" This last exclamation because Bridget loomed beside the window and glared down at me, rising like the tide. Her teeth gleamed and her eyes were red and she slobbered all over my side of the car.

Kaede suddenly laughed. "Ah ha ha! She's so CUTE! Why are you scared?"

"She's gonna eat me!" I protested, staring at her, feeling horror that she could be so blind. "She tries to bite me every time she sees—w-wait, ma, where are you going?!"

She didn't answer. She just got out and opened the trunk and started trying to heave out the suitcases, nodding hello to Bridget's human. Nii-san went to help her. Bridget kept growling at me. Kaede left too, but she went around and tried to say hello, leaving me alone. I hate dogs. I hate them. Big ones especially. I hunkered down in my seat and waited for her to go away.

Kaede had left her door open. Bridget bounded around the car and tried to reach me through that end. I shot out the other side and made a break for the door.

Too late—she blindsided me and I fell over and cracked my head on the concrete of the step up to the door. I could feel her catch my arm in her mouth and start to bite down—

"BRIDGET!"

She froze, but her fangs had already pierced my skin, and blood was staining my sleeve. I shut my eyes and waited. She growled, then let go and trotted back to her human, tail wagging, a dog-grin trying to charm everyone. I tried not to be happy that I had proof that she was a vicious bitch.

"You scared her!" Bridget's human cried shrilly. "Why do you always have to scare her?! What did she ever do to you?!"

"Well, she bit me, so I guess that's one thing," I snapped back. I felt very weak and scared, but she's got me, so she'll be sated for today, right? My arm didn't hurt nearly as much as I could do to myself. Everyone was staring at me, except for Bunny. Bunny was staring at the dog. And then he stared at the human. His stare got very angry. I tried to get up, but my head hurt, and my arm ached, and I was just swamped with humiliation.

My entire family was here, and the first interaction they see is a dog attacking me. The dog growled again, and tried to lunge, but Bunny grabbed her collar and shoved her down. He didn't hurt her, even though her human shrieked; she just laid down very suddenly, with a surprised bark, and Bunny leaned on her so she couldn't get up.

"You should probably fix your arm," he advised, calmly, as he usually is. He ignored the crazy dog lady, who was near screaming hysterically that he was killing her dog. "Dogs eat their own excrement, you know."

"I know," I mumbled, trying to get up again. My head started spinning; the spot where I'd hit it hurt just as bad as the bite-wound. But I've survived worse. So I managed to stand up and find my hat and approach the knot of people, trying to stay out of lunging distance. I hate dogs. I hate them. And they hate me.

"You okay?" nii-san asked, with no expression. He doesn't care, which is good. He knows I can put up with this kind of shit.

I nodded, carefully, and grabbed up a few bags. "Yeah. Right, I managed to mostly get things cleaned up, but don't look under the couch. I don't know what's under there and I don't want to. It's probably a klepto gremlin, the way I keep losing my change." I grinned, but Kaede was still staring, horrified. "What? It's not my fault that—AIYA!"

Bridget had gotten free and lunged again, but this time Bunny still had hold of her collar and she stopped short. My mini heartattack passed, but I still hurried getting in to the house. Nii-san, ma, and Kaede followed. Bunny tried in vain to convince Bridget's human that her dog was in no way harmed, but she wouldn't listen. Only when I closed the front door did Bridget stop barking and growling and straining to get to me.

A twinge in the back of my skull hit me when I sighed in relief. "Geez… that's a first. Poor bas—idiot. He's gonna have a helluva time getting away from THEM." I probed the spot gingerly and felt wetness. "Sh—crap. Second time this week…"

"What was THAT about?" ma demanded. I prided myself on not flinching.

"Er… that was Bridget. Her humans moved in a little while ago, just down the street, and she likes to attack anyone who isn't under the age of ten. Her humans blame the victims, of course. Usually I'm faster at getting away." I snagged the bags and cases and set them by the foot of the stairs. "Right. Who wants guestbed?"

"Did you air it properly?" Ma is a stickler for that kind of thing. "Are the linens clean? You dusted, right?"

"I'm not a housekeeper, ma," I groaned. "All I did was open the window and vacuum. I haven't actually put sheets on it since the last time Tony invaded." That had been several months ago. Bunny had stayed over a few times, when I broke my ribs, wrist, and kneecap, but he'd done his own cleaning. He'd cleaned the rest of the house, too, without my consent. But nobody was allowed to know that.

"I call couch," nii-san commented, and flopped on to said piece of furniture. "Huh. This is actually pretty comfy."

I didn't tell him it had to be because I passed out drunk on it four times a week, minimum. I also didn't tell him that I had the sudden urge to punch him in the face. I missed my nii-san, strange as it sounds.

Kaede, looking around kind of confusedly, said, "Why did you repaint? Didn't it used to be blue in here?"

My heart started hurting worse than my head. "Yeah, well… at one point I almost tried to sell it." Because I almost gave up. "And I haven't had the chance to repaint again."

She looked at me, then the walls, then me. "Why would you sell it?" She sounded almost angry.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "To move back. But my boss wouldn't let me; well, my then-boss. My current one wouldn't care, except he'd dock my pay for being late all the time. Uh."

Ma picked her bags from the pile. "Kaede, dear, I think you should have the guest room. Kotetsu, did you clean yours?"

"Um, no, not really…" If by "clean" you mean "all of my shit shoved in the closet", then no. Not even that. I forgot to throw out my overflowing trash can, and everyone's photos are still out, and I didn't make my bed, and my clothes haven't been hung up. I forgot that there are really only three places to sleep in this house. Ma will take my room, Kaede will take the "guest" room (she had that room all to herself when she was a baby, and it hurts every time I open the door), and nii-san will have the couch. Where will I go?

A knock on the door; I turned to go open it (it's probably Bunny), but suddenly my head started swimming, and I had to catch myself on the doorframe before I could fall over. Nobody said anything. They pretended not to notice. I tried to be happy about that.

It was Bunny, and he raised an eyebrow at my (still) disheveled appearance. "Aren't you going to clean up your arm?" he asked dryly. I just kinda stared at him for a second, then shook myself awake.

"Huh? Oh… oh, yeah, I should do that… choose your poison."

"Do you still have any orange juice?" he inquired as he stepped inside. I locked the door behind him and rolled up my sleeve to get a better look at the holes in me.

"I think so. Ach! I hate dogs." I looked up to see Kaede hurrying up the stairs, dragging her bags, her face very red. I started to ask why, but nii-san interrupted me.

"Do you often invite rodents in your house so casually, otōto?" he asked, eyeing Bunny not at all pleasantly. "Not to say I'm not honored by your presence, but it's a bit late for social visits."

Bunny tried to smile vaguely, but it didn't work because he suddenly tensed up. I don't think visibly, but I could certainly tell, even if my brother couldn't. "Not casually. Only sometimes."

I jabbed him in the side as I walked past him, making him jump. "He's like a rat, it's impossible to keep him out for long. Orange juice in the fridge, clean cups in the washer. Don't take my green."

"Yes, yes, I know," I heard him mutter, as I snatched up ma's bags. "You are worse than Aunt Samantha…"

"I'll just pretend that's a compliment, thank you," I spat back. God, why does he have to be so irritating? "Nii-san, keep an eye on him, he might eat the carrots."

I didn't have to look to see the level of anger he shot my way. Strange, he was so hesitant and shy just four hours ago… but when you put us in a room together, we explode. It doesn't take much.

_you have pretty eyes_

I couldn't repress a sudden shudder, but I'd already hauled open my bedroom door and was trying not to let the blood almost pouring out of my arm get on ma's things. She stopped me before I could leave and grabbed my wrist; I tried not to shudder again. Blood, red, shiny, blackness where it'd begun to clot.

Ma sighed and shook her head. "Baby, show me your arm."

"The carpet is getting stained," I muttered, trying to pull away. She wouldn't let me.

"Show me your arm."

I hesitated, then did so, rolling up my sleeves as high as they would go. I'd run out of space and had started working my way down. She probed my raw scars gingerly, and she seemed very sad. "Baby, why are you doing this to yourself?" she whispered.

"I dunno," I mumbled. "Just… because, I guess."

"Well, stop it." She pressed her hand over the newer ones, like she could press them away and make everything okay again. It won't be, though. I learned that lesson years ago. "You need help."

"I've got help." I tried to smile. "I've got you and nii-san here. If you two don't break me, well, I guess it'll be a cold day in hell."

She still glared at me, then looked around my room. "Hmm. I'll have to retrain you, too. Your closet is chaos, your bed isn't made, your laundry hampers are overflowing… have you vacuumed?"

"Twice in the past week." I tugged experimentally, but she wouldn't let go. "Ma, I'm bleeding, remember?"

Her classic Don't You Think I Know That? glare made me squirm, as usual. "Hmph. You need stitches."

"I've got a suturing kit, I've done this before."

"What, let a feral animal bite you?" Ma pulled me by my wrist to the bathroom, where I stuck my arm under the faucet to clear off the non-coagulated blood and she sniffed at my techniques and the state of said room. "Yes, you need help."

I closed my eyes for a second as the words and my wound stung. "Ma, can you please stop commenting on my housekeeping?" The scabbing wasn't going very fast. I kicked open the cupboard under the sink (one of the corners was stuck out, so I could hook it with my foot when I was lazy or had my hands full) and dug out the kit from behind the bleach and Tide and Windex and all that. Ma snatched out one of the little packets and opened it before I could protest. I like the silk thread better than the nylon. I don't know why, I just do. I don't think she's sewed up a person since I snagged my arm on the edge of the door on nii-san's van, either, but she remembered the stitches and she's still got steady hands.

I stood there and let her dowse me in disinfectant before starting on the biggest hole. Pain meds don't really affect me, not for something as small as this. The sink still had little streaks of red and pink. I wondered what it would look like if it was full of pink water that got redder as time passed. Probably the same. My attention drifted and got caught on my razor. But no, I've had my fill of pain.

No I haven't.

Each twinge was a reminder, a comforting feeling. I don't know why. It just made me feel better. Even if I hadn't done it myself, it still feels good. I have confirmation.

Ma finished and tossed out the leftover thread. I took the needle from her and put it in the little plastic tub I got at the Dollar Store. I haven't sewn myself up in a while, so it still wasn't quite a fifth full, but ma still frowned when she saw it.

"Put that away," she commanded, and swept out of the room.

I scowled, but put the tub in the back corner of the wall-cupboard and followed, rolling down my sleeves as I went. I should have probably gone straight to cleaning the carpet, but Bunny suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and shoved me up against a wall, effectively pissing me off to the point of throwing him back down the stairs.

"WHY," he hissed, "Did you have to bring that—that—IDIOT you call a brother?!"

"I didn't "bring him", first of all," I snarled back, "I invited him. And he is NOT an idiot; a buffoon yes, a moron maybe, but NOT an idiot. What did you do to him?"

"He—he tried to say—he said he thought—I—we—he said—" It's very rare for him to stutter, or blush, but his face got so red and his words came out so muddled, I automatically fell out of rage and into concern.

"What? He said what?" His hands were shaking. I got him to let go of me, but he wrapped his arms around himself and wouldn't look at me. I got angry again. "Benny, stop being a little kid and TALK to me, goddamnit!"

He flinched when I said his name—his old name. But he snapped out of it a little.

"He said… we were like… he said you were being unusually nice," he mumbled.

I stared at him. "…Well, yeah, that's because he hasn't been in the same house as me for about thirty years now."

"B-but he said it was weird, and that there had to be a reason, and he looked at me funny, like the boys at school when they thought I was going out with one of the popular girls—" he cut off quite abruptly and looked up sharply, staring down the hall. I looked where he did and felt the blood drain from my face.

Kaede was peering around her door at us, and she looked very shocked. Her eyes were mostly on the threads on my arm, but I could tell she had been listening. Oh god. Now all three of them were gonna think… well, I dunno what they were going to think, but it didn't seem very good. She saw us looking and quick slammed the door. I could hear her stumble back to whatever she had been doing.

We looked back at each other.

"I think I should go home," he mumbled, and quickly fled. He didn't even say goodbye, to me or anyone else, even though nii-san gave a sharp cry right before the door slammed.

I leaned back against the wall again and rubbed my face with both my hands. Screw it. I give up. I give up on him. I give up on the world. I should go down and explain to… but no. I looked back to the door hiding my daughter, and felt more than a pang of negativity; I winced, even though there was no outside stimulant. I took a step down the hall, thought about it, took two back, paused, took three back down. I stopped again and tried to think of what I would say to her anyway. No… nothing sounded okay. Nothing seemed to make sense. I fetched the bleach and went to scrub the spots off the carpet.

Ma caught me in the act, and narrowed her eyes at the spray-bottle of carpet cleaner by my elbow. But she didn't comment; she just patted my head like I was some kind of dog-maid, or cat-drudge. For a second, I felt unnatural anger; but no, no, I can't be angry like that. I focused on my task and pretended I didn't want to run after Benny and go for a few drinks. I hadn't had a beer all day, and I was feeling the effects. Keep scrubbing, Kotetsu, you idiot.

"Kaede, honey, come help me make some dinner," ma called through the door. I started upright.

"No, ma, wait, I can do that, you don't have to—"

She glared at me and I shut up. "You have lost blood, knocked your head, and are too stressed to be of any help." Then her look softened. "It's not that I doubt your cooking, I just don't want you to strain yourself too much."

I just kind of stared at her for a minute. "…Ma, you do know that this is basically a day in the life, right? If it hadn't been that demon-dog, it would've been an infected rat or something. It'd just be four times as much food, and anyway, this stuff needs to set in—"

Kaede emerged cautiously, and the look on her face, like she expected someone to start yelling, made me shut up. Oh, baby, what's wrong?

She ignored me, though. Just one glance at me, and then she skip-ran down the hall, neatly bypassing both me and ma. I tried not to wonder why. I tried not to wonder why ma patted my head again (I will not be angry, I will not be angry, I will not be angry) before following her.

Why are they doing this?

I blinked hard, rubbed my eyes, cursed as I got cleaner in them, then went back to scrubbing. I asked you to come here so I wouldn't feel alone. I wanted you to visit so I didn't have to wonder if it was okay to call or not. I want to feel like I still have a family, but apparently nobody wants me. Nobody wants…

I shook my head hard. I'm an idiot.

Dinner was actually nice, though ma scolded me for not having any "real food" in the house. I apparently forgot to remove the last four beers from the back of the fridge. Nii-san was nice and shoved them in the crisper, behind the onions, quickly so neither ma nor Kaede could see them. My brother is one of the best, did you know?

But anyway. We ate, we bickered, I tried to be nice but no one seemed able to accept it. I tried to keep from mentioning work, drinking, and my friends, but it was hard, because… that was my life. There was nothing to me except that I drank too much and my work was the only reason I woke up in the morning. So I sat and listened and tried to make conversation, but somehow I always got shot down. Whether by nii-san's inevitable, subtle cruelness, ma's unconscious nitpicking, or Kaede's open hostility, I couldn't get a word in without someone contradicting me. I know they didn't mean to, but when they all get together, they're so much more natural together that I lose significance.

I was almost glad when the call came through, but I was also angry because when it beeped, everything stopped. All three of them stared at me, as I opened my mouth to swear… but I shut it, stood up, fetched my hat, put on my shoes, said, "It's not that important, it won't take long," and left.

Of course, it was "important", and it took hours to finally catch the asshole and shove him into a police car. Bunny smirked at the camera as he handed off the perp, and the rest of us stood around feeling awkward. It was always bad when there was a lull in interest, and therefore less reporters, and therefore less attention to hand out. I wanted to leave immediately, but they caught me with my pants down and I had to pretend to be normal. I hate these people. I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home…

I fairly sprinted to my car when they finally let me off, and even though I drove like a maniac (translation: I drove like a normal person instead of a Resident) I was home by 01:44 o'clock.

I looked around. Nii-san was still up, hunched up on one end of the couch with a textbook and one light on. Nobody else was awake.

"I thought you said you'd given up on going to college," I said, loudly, and grinned when he jumped. "Or are you playing pretend?"

He glared, shutting the book with a snap. "Why does it take so long for you guys to catch a single criminal?"

I winced. "Touché, I guess. Er… It wasn't my fault, first of all. Second—"

He shook his head and dropped the book on the coffee table, before swinging his feet up and stretching across the entire length of the couch. "You are an idiot, otōto."

"Same to you," I grumbled, stomping to the fridge. "They asleep?"

"They should be. If they aren't, it's because you woke them up with your shouting and stomping like a herd of elephants. Tell me, does he always smirk like he's just gotten laid?"

"Crass as ever, eh?" I popped the cap and drained a bottle of Bud. "He has different smirks for every occasion. His "Just Got Laid" smirk is more smarmy. That was his general "I'm Better Than You" smirk, on the camera just now. He's got one for individual people, too."

Nii-san peered over the back of the couch at me as I leaned on the counter and popped another bottle. "Yeah? What's his smirk for you?"

"How the hell should I know?" I snapped back. "It changes, god knows why. Sometimes it's the one he gives Rose, sometimes Tony, sometimes Emblem… usually it's a mix between Cyclone and Agnes. Y'know, condescending and hateful. I guess." I drank my beer and shut up.

He squinted at me, then fell back and disappeared from view. "Kaede was concerned."

I felt my shoulders tense, and I stared down at the label on my brown bottled beauty. "…What did you tell her?"

"That it was normal, and that you can't explain because it's classified. She stopped asking after that, but I think she's even more worried. You'd better reassure her in the morning. Good night."

I looked up sharply. "What! Classified?! Why'd you tell her THAT? Hey… hey! I'm talking to you!"

No answer, except a snore.

A moment of frozen time. Then I threw my bottle to the floor as hard as I could. It shattered with a satisfying crash, the liquid still inside splashing out to double the danger. I almost screamed, too, but I held it. I held it as hard as I could. I bit my lip, and slid down the wall of cupboards to sit in a puddle of beer and shattered glass. The snoring never paused.


	9. Chapter 9

**Playlist:  
LoTR: Two Towers soundtrack**

"Are ye well, lad?"

I shook my head. My glass stared, ice cube-eyes fixed on my face. I stared back. I'm… so tired.

I haven't been to the ring in days. My drinking has been scanty at best, and mostly nonexistent. My nerves are stretched tight as a circus wire-walker's dream. I haven't been in my own house for longer than five hours at a time. Not even Saito's sleep-chambers can give me enough rest. I'm on the verge of passing out; I've survived this long on energy drinks, protein shakes, and other liquids, since I will most probably throw up anything solid.

This is one of those months where everything that can go wrong, does.

Mary sighed and patted my shoulder. "Ye'll be alright. It'll pass."

"Pass?" I mumbled. "No. It won't."

~~~\0/~~~

"Bye, daddy." She hugged me very tightly, and I hugged back. "Can you come to my birthday party?"

I dredged up a smile. "Of course I can. All this overtime, I think I've earned two whole weeks off. A few days won't hurt."

Kaede grinned back. "Good. Hinamori-sensei wants to talk to you 'cause you missed parent-teacher conferences, and so does Haku-sensei, and I forgot to give you my wishlist—"

A real smile caught me, and I laughed a little. "Aiya, so many expectations! I'll come, I promise. I love you."

"I love you too, daddy." Another hug, and she skipped to the train, hopping sideways a little to wave goodbye. I waved back; the door closed; she popped up in a window with ma and waved again; Nii-san gave me the middle finger and grinned as I scowled at him. Oh, how I hate him.

But they were leaving today.

I waited until the train had completely disappeared, then turned away and went back to the car. Well… I guess I can sleep in my own bed tonight. That's a plus.

Bunny was leaning on the fender, nose in a book. I stopped in my tracks and stared for a second. Then, looking around, I found a handy rock and threw it, as hard as I could. It knocked the book out of his hands: bummer, that; I'd been aiming for his head. He still looked up and glared.

"What the hell are you doing on my car, rodent?" I called, beginning to walk again. I wanted to stay where I was and yell from a safe distance so he couldn't see my eyes (they're red and on the verge of spilling over), but I wanted to leave as soon as possible, too. The lesser of two evils is to take it out on someone who can handle whatever abuse I dish out. "You're gonna leave smudges."

He looked at my less-than-pristine paint job and his lip curled. "Oh? I can't seem to find any new ones, and it was like this when I got here. Mr. Lloyds wants us at his office ASAP."

It was my turn to sneer. "Well, ya know what, you can all go to hell. I am NOT doing ANYTHING today. And where were you earlier? Kaede wanted to say goodbye, you selfish idiot."

Everything rolls off him so easily. I can feel myself emptying into the words when I say these things, all the bad things forced into a single compact sentence that he bats away like a fly. Usually, it's annoying; today, it was the best therapy available, other than beer.

He knows my peculiarities enough not to get angry at me. "I declined your invitation because Uncle wanted to talk. Please do not call me an idiot; it reflects badly on your own intelligence, you moronic imbecile."

He sounded… almost _affectionate._ I snarled at him as I unlocked the door. "Yeah? Then what about you? The prestigious prodigy, born of impeccable pedigree, the posterboy of HeroTV, stooping to calling someone an imbecile? What, you can't even insult me in French or something? You have to settle for English?"

"Vous êtes un imbécile. Suce ma bite et m'appellent maman. Peut vous étouffer la semence du pape." He shrugged. "My French is a bit rusty, but those are my favorite lines. I learned them from eavesdropping on the jocks who were in my class; nasty little bâtards. I do believe at least three of them are in jail for armed assault and domestic abuse."

I stared at him. "What does that even mean?"

"Eh." He shrugged again. "Two of them involve male body parts, and the first is simply 'you are an imbecile'."

I forgot about getting away from him as fast as possible. "Okay, but what were those last two? Doesn't "pape" mean the Pope?"

"Yes, and maman is mother." His face became distinctly redder. "Eh… Mr. Lloyds will be angry… I took the bike here, so I shall ride it back, too—"

"Oy, slow down a minute, asshole," I snapped, grabbing his arm before he could escape. "If you're gonna insult me in a different language, then translate, too!"

"I'd rather not," he muttered, slipping my grip. "See ya."

And then he was gone.

I scowled after him, then climbed in my car and drove away from the station. I'd have to look those phrases up, then. Hmm… male body parts, mom, and Pope… those were not good combinations, in anyone's book. But anyway… Lloyds the Deplorable called, and unfortunately, I had to answer. I saw the bike zip away as I followed the long line of creeping vehicles leaving the parking lot. He's gonna have to answer me sooner or later.

I hadn't reached for my razor since they'd come to visit. Is that good? Yes. But I haven't really, actually spent time with them since the first day, and I remember apologizing whenever they looked at me with that accusing stare, the one I got when I opened the front door, whether going in or out. I remember Kaede staring at me sometimes, like she wanted to be angry, but was holding herself back. I remember (vividly) ma commenting, after a particularly brutal night, when I came home at seven in the morning with a cracked tibia and a cramp (it was far past a stitch) in my side, "You need to eat. You're about to fall over."

I remember saying, "Can't. I'd just throw it up again. Move over, Mori, I think I'm going to pass out."

I remember not noticing Kaede on the stair until I'd fallen onto the couch and curled into the fetal position, and then I blacked out.

I stared at the traffic light and willed it to change colors. I want to go home and pretend everything is normal. I want to pretend…

My phone buzzed. The light turned. I made a little sobbing sound. The car behind me rammed into me so hard I rammed in to the person in front of me, and the driver yelled "MOVE IT, ASSHOLE!"

My bracelet beeped as I automatically hit the gas pedal. _"Bonjour, he—what the—"_

Everything went black.

~~~\0/~~~

I woke up with a shard of glass buried in my skull. Or, that's what it felt like. My head certainly hurt. And there was glass everywhere. And I seemed to be upside down.

I could see the street through the hole where my windshield used to be. Yes, it was upside down, as I thought. There were other cars, but they were like mine, jumbled and crumpled; there was an ambulance wailing towards our twisted metal cages.

Now, I know a lot of people usually panic in these sort of situations. I've seen it; crying, screaming, silent shock and locked joints, quiet sobs as a broken limb or dead passenger is cradled in trembling hands. There are also the people who crawl out of the wreckage, look around, and head for the nearest person in need of help. Then there are the people who laugh. Those are the worst, to me. They're so relieved, shocked, giddy with having scraped past death, that they laugh and laugh and laugh. They look like ghouls, albeit living ghouls.

I think I'm one of those silent shock people. I hung there for a minute, my arm twisted up above (or under?) my head, my other arm tangled in the seatbelt, both knees caught on the steering wheel, the glass shard in my head beginning to pound even worse. I tried moving; the arm pinned under (or above?) my head was numb and wouldn't respond. My other arm moved slowly, painstakingly slow, and the seatbelt wouldn't unclick. The shard in my head (which wasn't really a shard) only got worse the more the blood drained downward. One knee was bruised badly, the tendon holding my kneecap most probably damaged to some extent. I thought about all this in a very sharp, articulated way. And then suddenly the button clicked, my seatbelt popped, all of my weight landed on my head, and I said one loud, very effective word; "Ow!"

Being freed, I fell over on my side, my knees screaming as they slid along the wheel. I laid there for a second, until my numb arm starting regaining feeling… from the bicep up, of course. Below that, everything was still… gone. So I sat up as well as I could, hissing all the way, and crawled out the door, which had popped open upon landing (bless Saito and his sadistic, morbid genius. He thinks of every dangerous situation).

A medic was hurrying towards me, but I ignored her, stood up, and turned to inspect the car. The glass was everywhere, the tires were destroyed, the oil was leaking… but all in all, the basic framework and engine seemed to be in working order. I grinned, and was surprised to hear myself say, in a completely normal, non-shock-frozen voice, "You are an indestructible monster. Bless the iron ore from which you were forged."

The medic reached me and took my un-broken arm firmly. I heard her say something, in a gentle tone of voice, but I couldn't hear the actual words. I shook her off carefully. "Look, thanks for your concern, but honestly, it's just my arm that needs help. My knee feels screwed up, too. What happened?" I negated her answer by looking around.

My car was alone, in the middle of the intersection. It had landed perfectly, with the nose pointing dead-south and the back pointing dead-north. All the other cars were scattered everywhere else, piled together, with dazed and screaming occupants wiggling their way free like maggots. There were three ambulances, seven police cars, and two heroes: Blue Rose and Bunny.

Rose couldn't hide it; she gave a little gasp when she saw me and came toward me a few steps before remembering herself and looking away, trying to act aloof and important. I could see Dragon Kid hopping towards the intersection; Fire Emblem's car was stuck a few blocks back, barricaded by the mess. I was a bit confused, then saw the large dent in the road where my car had landed. Ah… so the newest problem had come here. But why?

Bunny suddenly grabbed my shoulders and yanked me away from the startled medic. "Idiot! I SAID Mr. Lloyds wanted to see you! What the hell did you DO?!"

"I didn't do shit!" I protested, shaking him off. Vaguely, I noticed that there was panic under his rage. "I was coming to the damn meeting, and THIS happened! It's not my fault the traffic is so bad."

He gave a short bark of laughter that sounded both angry and relieved. "I repeat, you are a moronic imbecile. What happened to your arm?"

"None of your business." I stepped away sharply when he reached for it. "Do your job, rodent, I got a car to inspect."

"You get hit by a giant ball of dust, smashed upside down in the middle of the street, break your arm, and you just have A CAR TO INSPECT?!" Rose's voice was approaching a shriek. She, also, looked both panicked and enraged.

"Oh… a ball of DUST? Was that what that was? I didn't notice." I tested my arm and winced. "It's not broken, just cracked. I think."

Bunny stared at me for a minute, then slammed his visor down and stomped away from me. Rose moved like she was going to stalk forward and berate me like she usually would, but then she got cold feet (ha ha ha) and backed away, turning to the crowds again.

The medic grabbed my arm and looked it over. "Hmph. It's broken."

I grimaced. "What a brilliant way to start the week."

She shook her head wearily. "Tell me about it."

~~~\0/~~~

Thankfully, it wasn't a serious break, so the ambulance-doctor gave me a cast and a brace for my knee and sent me on my way. Everyone was in uniform, running around after the "ball of dust" (it looked more like a cloud of shit-particles to me. Then again, I only saw it on a tv screen). Mr. Lloyds sent a telegram ordering me to stand down and wait in the van with Saito.

I disobeyed orders and stayed with my car, directing the cleanup crew in how to take care of it. I'm very attached to it. They were very nice (the guy in charge saw what model it was and ordered the crew to be careful) but it was still scratched badly when they put it upright, and the roof was most definitely crumpled beyond repair. I climbed in, against everyone else's wishes, and tried the key. The engine started without a hiccup, and I felt an upwelling of relief that was far more than the relief of being alive. Ah, god, I'm happy not to be stuck without a means of transportation.

The cleanup crew leader came around and stood by my open door. "Ah… sir?"

"Hmm?" I turned the car off again, but kept my hand on the dashboard.

"You're gonna have to come out, so we can tow it. Not the scrap yard," he assured me hastily, when I stared at him incredulously, "To the restorers. They can fix the roof and the leak. You're lucky you're not dead; this thing took a beating, but you would've fared worse than that if the gods hadn't been with you. She's a beaut."

"Isn't she?" I agreed fondly. "I know the guy who engineered this model; he thinks of everything, so it's a lot safer than you'd think. Even if it is mostly solid-cast and doesn't crumple like those sissy Gliders."

The guy grinned. "Yeah… you'd be surprised how often those things fail in a pile-up; they're so "safe", they end up killing the occupants anyway. The safety locks get stuck and don't undo in an emergency."

"Oy, boss! Ain't we got a job to do?" called one of his men irritably. He waved back vaguely and scowled.

"Anyway, sir. We have to tow it. D'you want to pick it up in a few days?"

"Yeah. Lemme get my stuff out first."

I emptied it of all my personal items and tried to ignore the Hyenas of Mass Media that were gathering and interviewing various victims and uniformed officials. The HeroTV helicopter was still hovering above, but eventually drifted away to hover over the heroes, who were presumably fighting the new threat. I scowled after it—I should be fighting, too—but put all my stuff in a plastic bag issued by the cleanup crew and stood back to let them push it on to a double-decker flatbed, the kind they use to bring new cars to the dealership. I handed over my keys, reluctantly, and looked around again.

There was a large perimeter staked off with yellow police tape around the hole where I'd landed. I stepped over the tape, incurring the wrath of two troopers who held back when I shot them a quick snarl. I knelt at the crushed edges of the hole and stared down at the broken pipes and pieces of concrete. It wasn't a very deep crater, but I'd broken two steampipes and cracked the roof of what appeared to be a sewer. I didn't dare go down and check it out further. The brace on my knee wouldn't allow it.

So. I'd only just managed to keep alive. Why does this happen so often? I stared without really seeing, thinking. A new mystery. Adrenaline quickened my heartbeat. Why me? Was I a random victim? Or was this deliberate? What would be gained if I was taken out of the equation? I couldn't think of anything. But that just made it better.

I stood up, too suddenly; my head throbbed and whirled, and my knee almost buckled. But I kept my balance and strode back to the tape barrier. Questions, questions, so many questions; I haven't been this excited since god knows when. I guess you could say I'm a detective wanna-be. But no. I ached to get in my armor and join the chase. I want to know. I want to be DOING something. But my orders were to stay put… but my legs were twitching with the urge to run, and my heart was beating fast, and my arm was already forgotten… but what if I got fired?

"Oh, fuck it," I said to myself, and raced for the van.

Saito was there, and was only too happy to help me in my suit, though he made me leave off my cast and brace. My armor is metal and can keep me as put together as any doctor-ordered support.

I made it to Bunny's side as soon as he caught up with the shit particle cloud; he jumped and hissed, "You idiot, your arm is broken! Stay out of this!"

"Aw, screw you," I retorted. "I'm here now, no point leaving. What's happened so far?"

He almost answered, but the cloud suddenly stopped swirling and dodging Sky High's attempts to rein it in, Blue Rose's intentions of freezing it, and Fire Emblem's bursts of fury… and headed straight for me.

I thought it was directed at Bunny at first. But then it slammed into me, thick and blinding, and some of it got in my helmet. I coughed and choked; so I suppose it really WAS a ball of dust. But it actually lifted me off the ground and flung me back a good twenty feet. Before I could stand up again, it grabbed me by my ankle (or, it coalesced around my ankle) and dragged me up again, about twenty meters from the ground. This, I almost panicked about. But then it started talking to me.

"_You are Wild Tiger, yes?" _it hissed.

I stared into the swirling mass four inches from my nose and managed to gasp out, "Y-yeah, but… what are YOU?"

"_Ahhhh."_

It rose higher, taking me with it; it was now level with the second level of the city, and I was hyperventilating. I've been in more dangerous situations than this, and higher off the ground, but the dust in my helmet kept getting up my nose, and it's hard not to be scared when the only thing holding you up is a bunch of dirt.

"_I am me. I am… consumed."_

I gaped at it, knowing I looked very silly, hanging upside down and about to die. "Consu… what the hell does that mean?!"

"Skyyy… HIGH!"

I yelped as suddenly I was lifted by something even less substantial, which tried to tug me away from the dust. It just pulled me back, in an almost surprised jerk, like a child startled by a baby trying to take its new toy. I swung like a ragdoll and was almost sick. "NOT HELPING, AIR-HEAD! NOOOOT HELPING!"

"_I am consumed by myself. Look." _The dust-arm that had hold of me suddenly snapped back to the inner mass, taking me with it. Again, I went blind; this time, the dung-colored grit became so dense it was black, and I could feel it sucking at me, like quicksand, trying to block me from moving. I flailed harder, but it didn't help. I was moving forward still, and the sensation of being sucked inwards only increased, until my arms and legs were pretty much flattened, and I went into a full bodylock. Suddenly, there was disorientation; I was spun, or maybe flipped, or turned, or whatever; I just knew I faced a different direction, and the blood wasn't pounding in my skull anymore (the glass from earlier, however…).

The ever-shifting surface scraping on my visor suddenly thinned, then disappeared.

There was a girl-shape in a mostly-empty pocket in space. She just kind of floated there, but she wasn't human, she wasn't flesh and blood, she was… something else. She glowed blue. She was curled into the fetal position, face buried in her knees. She looked up.

She didn't have a face. Just… emptiness.

"_See? I let it get the better of me. I didn't mean to… but it just happened. I can't move, and I can't really think… all I see is sand. I feel… hollow. You're a hero. Can you help me?"_

She reached out, and I automatically took her hand, gingerly. It gave a little, like tightly-packed sand starting to dry in the sun. There wasn't even a back to her face, there was just her jaw, her hairline, and her ears. It was empty black in the middle. Maybe there were two little blue pinpoints. Maybe.

"Well… M-maybe. What's your… what's your name?" There was something very disturbing about being supported in midair by a constantly-shifting seat of sand, holding a dust-person's hand as she floated. It should've been pitch-black in this little place, except for a tiny hole in (presumably) the top of this little shell, where an even tinier beam of sunlight fought through.

She cocked her head to one side. _"My… name? My name is Jane. I think. I can't remember. My mama calls me Jane, at least. Why?"_

"How did you get like this?"

"_The men made me do it. The man. The man with the tattoo on his hand."_

"Tattoo?"

A stream of grit suddenly unraveled from the wall and made a shape in midair. My heart gave a single, heavy thump. That sign… I'd seen it before, I know I had… A snake with a sword…

"_He called himself the voice of Ouroboros. His name was—"_

She suddenly stopped, and raised her head, like someone had called her name. _"No… don't… don't hurt us… don't!"_

She suddenly yanked me towards her, and I couldn't help a short scream as black dirt snaked in under my helmet to smother me—no, it closed like a hand over my mouth, and I could definitely feel a solid human squeezing me close. I couldn't see, because the walls of the pocket had closed around us, and I couldn't move, because the shifting sand had trapped me.

"_Old man!"_

"B-Bunny?" I gasped out, around the hand. I forgot about the radio. "Bunny, where—"

"_NO! THIS ONE IS MINE!"_

My helmet parted company with my head, and disappeared. Now I was fully exposed to what was happening, and what was happening was the sand had become a veritable blizzard, battering me and trying to smother me; or, that's what it felt like. So I did what any sensible person would do; I started screaming.

"_All I see is sand… All I see is sand…"_

"Let—go—of—me—"

"_They made me do it. The man with the tattoo did."_

The sand felt like it was scraping my face off; it was also getting down my throat. I coughed, and kept coughing, and the sand-girl started humming, as the storm grew fiercer and whipped harder and scoured faster. She started singing. She sounded scared. Desperate. _"Where once was light, now darkness falls… where once was love, love is no more… don't say goodbye… don't say I didn't try…"_

I couldn't breathe.

"_These tears I cry, are falling rain… for all the lies you told me, the hurt, the blame… and we will weep, to be so alone… we are lost… we can never go home…"_

Isn't someone going to help me?

"_And in the end, I'll be what I will be… No loyal friend was ever there for me… Now we say goodbye… we say you didn't try…"_

Her fingers were very solid as they dug into my throat and cheek, blocking my ears. I could still hear her.

"_These tears you cry, have come too late… take back the lies, the hurt, the blame… and you will weep when you face the end alone… you are lost, you can never go home… you are lost… you can never go home…"_

She sounded like she was about to cry. Anyone, anybody, please…

"Please… stop…"

"_You are lost," _she whispered in my ear. _"You can never go home."_

The hands on my ears slid down and clenched on my throat. I gasped and choked. Asphyxiation by dirt, very likely; chance of crazy girl strangling me, also very likely. Chance of survival via rescue, zero. Okay, time to take matters in my own hands.

I buried my fingers in the grit trying to throttle me and managed to peel most of it off of me. Underneath the black dirt, thin, bony, calloused hands flexed and trembled. I stared for a moment, then forced them away, ignoring her shriek of indignation; I fell, quite suddenly. The sandstorm hissed and caught me, buoying me upwards, back to the screaming sand girl. This time, I grabbed her wrists before she could get at my throat. The two blue specks in the emptiness of her face flared, and her scream turned into sand that stuffed itself into my ear-canals and scratched my eardrums. The empty blackness loomed closer, blue gleaming brighter, and I caught the whiff of decaying meat.

"Jane," I tried to say. Dust and dirt filled my mouth, wicking away any drop of moisture. I couldn't even cough properly.

She shook off my hands and a whip of sand caught me around my waist. Her armor of dirt reformed, her physical manifestation of sound unplugged my ears, and the walls of dust around us solidified. In barely ten minutes, a whirlwind of violence had come back to a sterile environment. I spat out most of the stuff in my mouth and tried to slow my heartbeat.

She curled up again, in the fetal position, her no-face buried in her knees.

I was still suspended in midair, and there was still dirt in my mouth. Strange, how tired you can get when you can hardly breathe.

"_I let it get the better of me. I didn't mean to… but it just happened. I can't move, and I can't think… all I see is sand. I feel so empty…"_

I tried swallowing; nope, too much crud. I spat again. "What happened? What got the better of you?"

She looked up, the empty blank blackness that should've been a face somehow darkening even further. _"I… don't… know. I didn't mean to let it happen. I don't remember. I don't remember… the man… the tattoo…"_

"Yes, the man with the tattoo." For a minute, I thought we were getting somewhere. "What did he do?"

"_Touched me… and I forgot."_

Oh, great. So a pervert traumatized her and she has amnesia now. "Why are you like this? What…" I noticed the blue glow again. "What's your power?"

"_I can fly." _She uncurled a little, leaned forward; she sounded eager now. _"I can hide, and I can fly. I hid because I'm devil-cursed. I can hide in the ground, I can fly in the air… All I see is sand," _she repeated, perplexed, now. _"All I see is sand."_

"Does the sand help you fly?" I've always been interested in the abilities of others, and this was a new one. "And you only see sand because you're surrounded by it. Can't you land? Can't you see outside this?"

"_Out… side?" _Timid now, she retreated, curled tighter. _"What's outside?"_

"Well, not sand," I muttered. "There's, um… people. There's a lot of people. And buildings. And there are parks—trees and grass and things. Don't… don't you remember?"

"_I forgot."_

I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn't say something angry and set her off again. "Why can't you remember?"

"_He touched me. Here." _She pointed to her no-face. _"He touched me and I forgot. I didn't mean to let it take over."_

The dust started getting agitated. I swallowed hard, spat out more dirt. Please don't kill me please don't kill me. "Er… why do you want ME to help you? Bunny can—"

She SCREAMED, and I screamed too, because my armor was crumpling beneath the sudden pressure of the dust-storm as it squeezed me and I felt the separate components pop and squish and my arm snapped completely and she kept screaming so loud it drowned out even the hiss and whistle of the storm and it was like sandpaper tearing at my face and the pressure was unbearable oh god why

And then it stopped.

I coughed and realized I was crying. Jane was a lump of contorted nothingness in the empty black; the single stream of sun was gone. There was only the invisible glow of her power.

"_No."_

The walls contracted, dragging me closer to her. The air in here was getting close and too warm; her stench didn't help. I tried to breathe shallowly, but my lungs were starved and desperate.

"Hey… hey, Jane… can… I have some air, here?" I gasped out. The world was getting fuzzy, even her glow becoming nonexistent. "I… I can't really breathe in this place."

She didn't move. She was so still, in fact, that I thought she had turned into a solid rock or something. She was even scarier now than when she was trying to strangle me.

"J-Jane?"

"…_I will go outside with you."_

I gaped at her. "You… WAAAAHHHH!"

The walls exploded, still gripping me so hard it hurt. I could hear screaming, far away; onlookers? But the cloud had dispersed, leaving me floating at least ten yards away from the lump that was Jane. Slowly, the grit still holding me loosened. I got out one last "Jane—" before I fell.

I didn't have time to scream. I just fell, dropped like a lead cannonball. Everything hurt, but all that clean air, empty of dust and carrion breath, I felt so much better. And I even felt myself smile. The speck that was Jane uncurled, hesitated, then zoomed towards me, somehow catching up and latching on.

"_Outside?" _she whispered.

My smile became a grin. "Outside."

We fell.

~~~\0/~~~

"Skyyy… HIGH!"

Jane shrieked, waking me up. I'd passed out, from the speed and sudden rush of clean air and maybe relief, and we slowed with a jolt as a whip of pure air caught us and braked. We were still going down, but not like bullets. Jane clutched tighter and whimpered. I put one arm around her, as much for my comfort as her own. Wind still whistling in my ear blocked any other noise from her end.

Another, larger jolt; someone had caught us. Jane pressed her no-face against my shoulder, and Bunny set us down, alternating between glaring at Jane and inspecting me anxiously. I ignored him and pushed Jane away a little.

"See? Not as scary as you thought." I grinned, even though seeing her lack of a face in full daylight made me want to run. She wasn't human, it was now clear; she seemed made out of sand, with little wisps of dust coming off her in the vague breezes. She still clung to my arm, head swiveling wildly as she took in the whole world.

"_No… no, it's worse," _she moaned, hiding her no-face again. _"It's too much, too much…"_

"Shush," I told her sternly. "It isn't too much. Now, what was all the hiding in a hamster-bubble about? It's not that bad." I don't know why I suddenly felt more in control, of myself and the situation; maybe it's because I'm not trapped in a bubble with a deranged little girl.

She turned up her no-face and shook her head, sending little rivulets of sand down her neck to break apart and disappear into the wind. _"I… I forgot. I didn't mean to let it take over," _she fretted, _"I didn't mean to. It made me empty, and I forgot."_

"What is… this thing… babbling about?" Bunny demanded. I pulled my whole arm out of Jane's grip (she went to my other side and clung to the broken one) and punched him in the face.

"SHE," I stressed, after he stopped yelping, "Is babbling about what made her like this. Jane, this is… my partner. You, this is Jane." I glared at him and he hid his affront. "He can help too, y'know."

She turned her not-gaze on him, and he paled. _"…He looks familiar," _she mumbled. _"I know… knew him. Too much, too much." _She hid her face again. _"I should never have come outside."_

"Yes, you should have," I scolded, "Because maybe you can remember something now. Walling yourself in won't help you."

"_All I see is sand," _she whispered. _"I can feel it, it's so open, it's so cold… but all I see is sand."_

Other people were hurrying towards us, so half of my attention was on them; but Jane was still my main focus. "Well, first off, where's your face?"

"_He took it." _She raised her hand and probed the emptiness gingerly. _"He touched me and took it, so I couldn't remember. I can't see without it. All I see is sand."_

"But you can still speak," Bunny blurted. "You can speak, and hear, right?"

She turned to him again, and this time she seemed disapproving. _"Yes. But what does that have to do with anything? If I took YOUR face, if I took YOUR past, your mind, your memories, wouldn't you still be able to speak?"_

He shut up, with a very confusing look on his face. It wasn't a very positive expression.

I tried to pry her off of me, but she only tightened her grip. It hurt, so I stopped. She noticed the others and hid her no-face, sand drifting over in an imitation of hair. In fact, now that I paid attention, she was formed stark staring naked, and only now had she acquired hair. She was like a Barbie doll (though not quite so insanely proportioned), only more detailed. I felt my face heat up.

Blue Rose was first, and she had her gun at the ready, pointed down, but she looked ready bring it up at any moment to shoot Jane in the face. She looked very fierce, too.

"What the hell happened?!" she almost shouted, glaring mostly at Jane. There was really a lot of ill-will headed her way today, wasn't there? "You disappeared, and we heard screaming, and your helmet—" She saw my face and her own paled. "What the…"

"What? Am I all disfigured now?" I rubbed my face self-consciously, but she shook her head, looking a little scared.

Bison was the next to arrive, puffing as if he'd run a twenty-mile sprint. It was strange, seeing a large, in-shape man exhausted while a girl in highheels seemed fresh as a morning buttercup. But he saw me and blurted "Jesus Christ, man, what the hell happened to your damn goatee?!"

"Beard," I corrected automatically. Then I rubbed my chin and felt my blushing abate. "Oh… shit!"

"Oh, I suppose it is gone," Bunny commented absently, looking vaguely surprised.

"It's not that," Rose got out, "It's… you're all… scratched up, and…"

"God, did someone try to throttle you or—" Bison saw Jane then. "Santa Madre de Dios y Satanás, qué es esa cosa?"

"_What did it say?"_ Jane whispered, without lifting her head.

"Something about god," I translated, glaring at him. "Damn it Bison, do you always have to bring religion into this?"

"I do NOT—" he started to protest, but Jane suddenly moaned and buckled, dragging on my arm, making me yelp. I caught her and pulled her upright, but she was shivering so hard the dust fell off in ribbons and billows.

"_Madre de Dios, Madre de Dios," _she whimpered, so quiet I could barely hear her, _"Mother of God, Mary, Mary, mama, no, I forgot, I forgot…"_

Everyone was there all of a sudden, but none of them wanted to come too close. I didn't want to be too close, either, but she wouldn't let go. "Oy… oy! What's wrong? Didn't you want to—"

"_MADRE!"_

Without warning, a mini tornado sprang up, as fierce as the cloud in the sky; several people shrieked, Bunny shouted something, and Jane threw her arms around my neck and kept shouting, _"MADRE, MADRE, PERDÓNAME, MADRE, PERDÓNAME!"_

The dirt whipping around us wasn't as ferocious about disfiguring people, but it certainly hurt. "Jane, stop it! Don't be like this, please just stop!"

"_I… I REMEMBER."_

My skin crawled. That voice was not human. Jane's hadn't been, either, but at least it resembled human speech. This didn't. This was like if a grave had a voice. I held on to her, because she held on to me, but she wasn't speaking anymore. It was something else.

"_I REMEMBER."_

The whirlwind abruptly stopped, the grains still suspended, a dun-colored curtain. She pushed away from me, floating, and I let go. She stayed there, in one spot, stationary, staring into the distance.

"_I remember," _she whispered. Then she crumbled to dust and was gone.

~~~\0/~~~

No one got points that day. Everyone stared at me, but I avoided them. Jane had remembered, and then died. What had happened? Was she keeping herself alive until she could remember? Was that even possible? Was she like a physical ghost or something? It was so confusing, I kept trying to forget, but I couldn't. Dragon Kid had insisted on putting her dust into a jar. She'd shoved it into my hands, and I'd taken it. I didn't know why, but I had.

It was on my mantelpiece, with her name on it in sharpie. Sometimes I had dreams about it. About the jar. Dreams where she came out of it, dust and all, and came up the stairs, and whispered when I was sleeping, _"I remember now. I remember his name._

"_His name is Maverick."_


	10. Chapter 10

**Playlist:  
LoTR: Two Towers soundtrack (Damn that album's fine.)**

"…Ouroboros," he muttered, staring at the sign.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "That's what she said, too. Bunny, what the hell ARE these guys?"

He frowned, like a perplexed child facing an old puzzle with a new piece. "I'm… not sure. I only know they are a criminal organization that is primarily made up of NEXT. If she were a member…"

"But she's not," I interrupted him. "She said it herself, she was trying to get away from M… him."

I hadn't told him the name she'd given me in my dreams. It didn't feel right. He was so close to us, the heroes as a whole… and he was Bunny's uncle. I couldn't believe… maybe it was a different Maverick. I didn't know if he had any family, though. I was avoiding that subject as hard as I could. And anyway, it was just dreams. But I'd shown Bunny the sign she'd given me, and now he was staring at my clumsy drawing like he could make it burst into flame, and the whole bloody organization with it.

"Er… Bunny?"

"Hmm? Oh!" He shook himself and looked up at me again. "Yes?"

"Can I go pick up my car now?" I asked, pointing to the repair shop.

"Um." He snatched the paper from my hand and straightened, nodding imperiously. "Yes, you should probably do that."

I looked at him suspiciously. His entire face went red, and he frowned thunderously. I shrugged and meandered over to the shop, rubbing my right cheek. All the scratches I'd gotten from Jane's sandstorm still stung occasionally, usually when I was trying to think, so I've stopped. Thinking, that is. Except I can't.

There were still bruises on my throat, too, blue-ish purple ones, in the shape of fingers. There were a few on my face, from when she'd covered my ears, but mostly the only visible signs were the millions of tiny scrapes (the doctors had assured me they'd go away with time, but they were certainly taking a long while) all over my face. A lot of people looked at me weird on the street, but my beard had finally grown back, so I felt better ignoring them.

The dreams kept coming, too. I don't believe in ghosts; I believe in spirits, but not ghosts. And I'm superstitious. A spirit strong enough to keep a physical form should be strong enough to leave a thinking imprint, right? Certainly makes sense to me.

I wandered in, and stopped dead in my tracks.

"What..."

The mechanic looked up and grinned. "I take it you are glad of what I have done?"

I couldn't place his accent, and I didn't care. He was just finishing up the paint job, and GOD did it look gorgeous. The colors were brighter (of course they'd have to clean it to fix it properly), it looked perfect (every dent, nick, scratch, and scuff were nonexistent), and the roof was in tiptop shape (in fact, it was such a perfect curve that I wondered if they didn't take the whole thing off to run it through a press or something).

"This is gonna cost a fortune, isn't it?" I asked, feeling my feet walk but not hearing my brain telling me to do so. Why is this car one of my most prized possessions? Oh, right; I'm a lonely idiot with no friends and my car has a mind of its own. It's like Christine, only it's not trying to kill me and everyone I love. It's trying to lure me out of the city, so I can go to some abandoned country road and go as fast as mechanically possible.

The mechanic, with his luxurious mustache and thick gold chain barely hidden beneath his jumpsuit, laughed so hard the mustache bounced and the chain tried to escape. "For you, boy? I see your face, your arm; I see you on the television, with this beauty. For you, I will lower the price. How much will you pay?"

I bit the inside of my cheek for a minute, then grinned. "Well, if we're gonna haggle, I need to inspect it. But I'll start at $150."

"$1,075!" he retorted.

I made a big show of walking around my car, inspecting the outsides. Nothing to complain about, except… "It's not worth THAT much. I can see where you welded the tailpipe on, and it is sloppy. My ma can do better than that, and she's got a bad back." She can, too. That's where me and nii-san got our love of all things fast.

He looked too and scoffed. "It is perfect! $1,070!"

"You forgot to smooth it out, and it's crooked," (it wasn't really by that much, but ma taught to use every weapon) "So it can't POSSIBLY be over a thousand. $152.60, and only because I like the paint job."

His mustache quivered, trying to hide a smile. "The paint is high quality! $1,075."

Ooo, ouch. Jacking the price to original? You underhanded bastard. "It's uneven. $150."

"Because I am not done. $1,073."

We're breaking the rules by going odd numbers and cents, but like hell am I raising my price. "Hmmm… The steering wheel is still dented. $145."

"You must have knees of steel and brains of chaffed wheat to see that it is impossible to unbend a steering. However, I can replace. $1,080."

Damn. "I don't mean to be nitpicky, but I can see the seams," I traced them with my fingertips, "All along the front grille. What, did you really feel it necessary to replace it with a lower-quality material? $140."

He traced the same seam. "Ah. That I cannot claim as my own design; my nephew work here after school, and he is not yet good at evaluation. $1,060."

Dramatic drop. I'm getting somewhere. "Alright, show me the things YOU have fixed."

The mustache twitches higher. "With pleasure. This way."

We spent about two hours arguing, but eventually we reached a compromise of $575 (which is, in my book, a very fair price without inflation). We shook hands, I signed a paper and handed over my debit card for a quick swipe, we shook hands again, and I drove my car out into the sunlight, where it glistened proudly. I would've gone straight home so my neighbors could be jealous (yes, I am a Yuppie at heart), but I spotted Bunny watching me by his bike. I wanted to tell him to shove that hunk of metal in the back and ride with me, but before I could even roll down my window, he hopped on and drove off. I tried not to be disappointed. He's only Bunny, after all.

~~~\0/~~~

"It'll have to be replaced entirely," Doctor Shayla, M.D., grumbled as she inspected my x-rays. I'm always distracted by her eyes (they're very pale gray, with a darker circle around the edge of the iris), but this announcement made me snap out of it.

"Er… what?"

She gave me a little glare, with tight-pressed lips. I don't think she likes me. Maybe because I look at her in fascination instead of attraction, which I'm sure she gets from other male patients. "Your kneecap. It's irreparable at this point, so we'll have to replace it. Would you rather a metal knee, indestructible and heavy, or one of our newer, more organic ones, lighter but more susceptible to wear and tear?"

I like how frank she is. "Well, since I'm gonna be busting my knee a lot more in the future, I'd rather one that will last. Will my bones get to be plated in silver or somethin'?" I knew joking wouldn't get me any closer to being one of her least favorites, but by keeping my eyes down on my injury I managed to make it into a joke that someone would make to anyone, instead of a flirt-joke, which I'm sure it would've seemed to be. I poked at the brace gingerly; it'd helped, but it still hurt to walk. Pao Lin had already started making fun of me, calling me a hobbling old man (probably in jest, except it hurt), and Tony was getting insufferably protective. It's like he doesn't have a life or something. At least I have Bunny to hang out with when I feel needy.

"No, it'll be a special alloy that won't rust, won't cut into your bone, and will be able to accept a layer of natural cartilage, so we don't have to inject you." She tugged off the brace (I bit back a yelp) and set it aside, picking up a deadly-looking instrument that I had no way to describe. "Now, we just have to test your pain response one more time. For the charts."

Seeing the evil glint in her eye, I gulped down a moan of fear and just squeezed my eyes shut tight. Why, oh, why do I always get the sadistic ones?

~~~\0/~~~

"Surgery?!"

I stared at Bunny's aghast expression. "Well, yeah. That's what you do when there's something wrong. I've already got so many plates and screws and things I make metal detectors go crazy. One more kneecap won't be much."

"But—but—" He seemed genuinely bewildered. "But you won't—what about work?"

"What about it?" I tried not to frown too thunderously, but I don't think I managed. "So I'll have a few days where I'll throw things and break sinks and scream at everyone for being healthy, but it'll be easier once I'm all healed up. It won't break anymore, too, so that's a plus."

"Too much surgery is bad," he protested; he made it sound like I was going to go jump off a bridge or something equally stupid. "Your body gets weaker every time, and it doesn't matter if you're half-cyborg, all that metal weighs you down and makes your muscles work harder."

I stared for a few more seconds. Then I picked him up and slung him over my shoulder, ignoring his slightly-girly shriek of surprise. "I don't care. I'm strong enough as is. Want a piggyback-ride?"

"NO!" he shouted, and I laughed. "Put me down, this is humiliating!"

"Oh, it is?" I started walking to the more populated section of the training center. "Well, it's good practice for when you finally get a girlfriend and take her out in public."

"What has a girlfriend got to do with anything?" he snapped. He was slightly muffled, his head being behind me and somewhere at the level of where my belt would be. "Put! Me! Down!"

"No. You should shave your legs, they look like tarantulas. Hey guys!" I cheered, coming around the corner and stopping everyone in their tracks. "Look, I found a bunny chewing the powerlines!"

"I HATE YOU!"

"Aiya, no need to be so loud," I muttered, ignoring his thumping the small of my back with his fists so hard I stumbled. "Oy, broken knee, remember?"

"I hate you I hate you I hate you!"

"I hate you too, rabbit, but you don't see ME screamin' it to the world. Whoops!" I dropped him on one of the couches and pretended surprise. I'm bad at pretending, but to me it just made it funnier. "Sorry, I didn't know rodents are so slippery."

His face was so red he looked like a blond strawberry, and I wasn't surprised to hear Tony suddenly burst into hysteric laughter. The others didn't, but I could see Pao Lin struggling to hide a grin, and Rose had a distinctly smug look on her face. Everyone else just looked a little startled. What, you've never heard of joking around with friends before?

"Sorry, sorry," I chuckled, when I finished laughing at him, and ruffled his hair. "Couldn't help it. You were reminding me of nii-san, that's all." I don't know why, but I grinned like he was my little brother. He kind of is, but today, he just was. I miss having family.

His blushing didn't abate, but he ran his hand through his hair to fix the knots I'd made and stood up. I wanted so badly to noogie him, but he would've killed me. So I settled for rubbing my arm (still in a brace, but mending faster than I thought possible), and forcing myself not to laugh anymore. I'm sorry I humiliated you like that, but I wanted you to know what it's like. In a ruthless, cruel, vicious way, I was glad he knew what it felt like to be treated with such disrespect. Not exactly condescension, and not exactly all-out loathing; somewhere in the middle, where you send people you barely know and wait until you figure out how much you hate them.

He tackled me and twisted my broken arm up behind my back.

"OW OW OW OW NO FAIR YOU DIRTY BACKHANDED CHEATING SON OF A BITCH—"

"Don't insult my mother, old man," he reprimanded me coolly, and pulled harder. I will not scream I will not scream I will not scream. I couldn't stop my face from turning red with pain and shame. This is what I get, I know that. I used the tactic I'd learned from nii-san and laid as flat and still as possible. Do not give in. Do not scream.

"What the hell are you doing?!" That sounded like Keith. Huh. He can swear?

"Payback." I have never heard him so innocent and unassuming. Vision… narrowing… arm… straining… "Why are you so quiet, by the way? What happened to the little old crybaby?"

It's just like school. Don't cry. Don't let it hurt. I force myself to grin. "He ran away. You're dealing with the arsonist-killer."

"Hey. You didn't kill him, you just put him in a week-long coma." Tony's boots came into view right in front of my nose. "And he died of internal bleeding, not your beating him to a pulp. I think that kick I gave him helped, though."

"Aww, why do you have to ruin everything?" I whined, still keeping myself as still as possible. Bunny tugged a bit more, experimentally, and another surge of pain rolled from my arm up to my shoulder and spilled out like a delta. I clenched my teeth and waited it out. "Anyway. How long are you planning to sit on me?"

"Oh, about a half hour should do, I think," he drawled, but didn't tug again. I learned some interesting techniques from the class Tomoe took when she was pregnant; I just breathed the way they taught her, and managed to push it away a little more.

"I can wait."

"Hmm. Really?" He turned, keeping a tight grip on me, and bent my leg back, so my knee cracked and throbbed. I winced, but ignored it. No, I can't ignore it; I gave up on keeping my head upright and let it fall, then turn, my jaw smacking the thinly-carpeted concrete, my cheek cooling then heating again. I felt my eyes burn. Don't cry don't cry don't cry.

"Get off of him!"

"No," I muttered, then, louder, "No, I'm fine. Doesn't really matter." I managed to turn my head a bit more and grin at Bunny. It probably seemed rather manic. "You're still just a little kid. Benny."

His face twisted, I couldn't recognize how, and now he was gripping me so hard there were definitely welts starting on my arm at least. He's just a kid. He can't keep this up. I hope.

I put my other arm up behind my back. "I dare you."

He hesitated. I hoped desperately he wouldn't do it, but I dared him. He can't refuse a challenge.

His hand let go of my leg and closed on my arm. I gave in to the tide of pain as he twisted. I'm going to need bed rest for a couple days after this, probably. No; I will never do that. I've been through worse. Nothing else matters, I can only feel the pain and see the floor. It's not pain anymore. It's a test of endurance.

"Get OFF!"

His weight and grip suddenly disappeared, and I gasped, mostly out of surprise. I still stood, though; not a scramble, not a slow, old-man rising. I just stood up and told myself not to act like I was in pain. And I didn't.

Ivan had apparently switched bodies with someone brave and/or insane, and heaved Bunny off of me. I knew because Bunny was trying to get up, but the moment he rose more than two inches off the ground, Ivan roundhouse-kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling back. I found a laugh somewhere. It wasn't relief, and it wasn't hysterics. It was just a laugh.

"Hey. Kabuki-kun. Leave him alone."

He stared at me for a second. "You… aren't angry?"

"Why should I be? I brought it on myself. Now leave that pig-headed idiot alone and practice, unless you're bored of punching bags. Aggie's gonna be pissed, and I am NOT dealing with her today." I stuffed my hands in my pockets and wandered towards the window. I had to walk past Bunny, so I nudged his hip with my toe as he sat up again, cautiously. "Play nice, kiddo."

He gave me a look like I would regret it later, but I know he doesn't mean it. I think he doesn't. I hope he doesn't.

~~~\0/~~~

"_When are you going to realize that letting them beat you at everything is not the best thing for any of you?"_

_This is the first time I feel that she doesn't understand, at all, in any way, shape, or form. "I'm not letting them beat me, I'm doing what's right; and what's right is saving people, not using them as points to try and be famous."_

_She sighs as she binds my shoulder. My scars are old and pale, and the cream she put on the burn numbs me, but she kisses my shoulder anyway, and then my ear, and then my neck. I shiver, but not because I'm cold._

_She smiles and wraps her arms around me. "Kaede is spending the weekend with your mother. Your brother is dropping her off, but we're going to have to pick her up on Monday."_

"_S-so we get the whole weekend to ourselves?" Why do I still get flustered when this happens? I pull her closer and hide my face against her collarbone as she laughs. "What're you laughing at?"_

"_You. You're so cute. And strong. And brave." She cups my face in her hands and makes me look at her. She's beautiful. "I love you."_

"_I love you more." It's true, I know it, I know it so deep inside that it hurts. I love her more than life. Love her more than death. With her…_

"_Impossible." She kisses me. "Oh, kitten, I love you."_

"_Love you more." It comes out husky this time, and it takes me a second to realize that her breath is as short and sharp as mine, and I can feel her heartbeat, and I am no longer in pain. "Tomoe…"_

"I_ love _you_ more," she retorts in a whisper, and kisses me._

~~~\0/~~~

The nurse arrived with a paper gown and stared.

I scowled. "What? I know the procedure, I'm jumping the gun." The hospital chill is already sinking into my arms and back. I kept on my pants because I'm not THAT eager to get things over with.

He nodded and handed over the rustling pile of supposed "clothing". "Okay. I'll wait outside. Just come on out when you're ready. Oh, without brace, too," he added hastily. "We've had some trouble with that lately."

"I haven't worn it since a few days ago. I got in a fight with one of my coworkers," I explained as he raised his eyebrows. "Hurt too much to put on, so I've been hopping a lot."

He nodded again, and his eyes caught on my left shoulder, on the multitude of scars (my right arm is a little less full). I unfolded the ugly blue thing and shook it a little. "Don't you have anything less embarrassing?" I complained. He finally looked away.

"No, that's standard issue. The more substantial garments are for out-of-surgery."

"I AM out of surgery," I pointed out; then, when he glared at me, added, "Hey, I'm being logical here. Can it PLEASE wait until last minute?"

He shook his head resolutely. I sighed and slumped, then kicked off my shoes. "Okay, okay, fine. Outside, please?"

When I was all naked and shamed and "dressed", I hesitated, then whipped out my phone and took a picture of myself. Not a full-body shot, just from my head to my chest. I stuck my tongue out at the camera and, at the little click, immediately put it in a message to Bunny, along with a text; _See? I'm humiliated and about to be crippled. Happy?_

After a minute, I bit my lip and deleted the text. _For the record, I hate you. _Deleted that, too.

_Here, for your blackmail files. _Deleted.

_From the desk of Mr. Tiger, regarding your past violence. _Deleted.

_Thought you needed a bit of cheering up._

Sent.

~~~\0/~~~

A week later, I stopped getting fits of unreasonable anger, mainly because they let me out of the hospital. I was forced to use crutches (I tried not to) most of the time, but Bunny was unexpectedly nice. Tony jumped even further into Mama Bear mode, Nathan cooed absently sometimes, Keith was disgustingly encouraging, Ivan wouldn't even look at me (embarrassed by his moment of rage, probably; I gave him a cookie and a knock on the head and he seemed a little better), Pao Lin continued teasing me and dodging when I tried to hit her with my crutches (my evil, evil crutches), and Rose had weird fits and starts where I thought she might be on the verge of being nice.

But Bunny was almost apologetic. I wanted to punch him for that, but I caught him looking at his phone occasionally with a pained expression and held back. After another two weeks, they let me off the crutches, and I could walk normally. It felt a little odd at first, getting into the correct rhythm, but my hip and back stopped hurting. I set off a metal-detector going to the bank. I managed to scrounge myself several hundred points and shifted slowly upward in the ranks, almost tied with Tony. Bunny bought me lunch every day for a week.

When ma called me to check on my knee, I'd just come back from another exhausting incident, so I was a bit cranky. Eventually, though, she got me to crack a smile, and then she let me talk to Kaede. She immediately asked about Bunny. I dodged the subject for a few minutes, then finally admitted, "He's been sticking close to Wild Tiger, so I actually haven't seen him much. And I just got the cast off my arm, so I'm getting even MORE unpaid overtime for all the time I missed." A lie, but I'm tired, and she can see that, so I have to give her an excuse. "But he dragged me to Apollon headquarters a couple days ago to keep watch on Wild Tiger while he got us food. It was almost funny, watching him fuss." It is funny when he fusses, but I forgot about Kaede's feelings, and rubbed my nose to hide a guilty wince. "He'll get over it."

The beginnings of an unhappy frown became the beginnings of a hopeful eagerness. _"Well… I guess so. Are you coming Wednesday?"_

"Aiya! Of course." I grinned, to hide my sudden alarm. I'd forgotten all about it. "Want me to get him to visit?"

"_YES PLEASE!"_ she cheered, and I laughed. God, I love making my baby happy.

~~~\0/~~~

The next day, I snuck up on him at work and pulled his chair down as far backwards as it would go, grinning at him upside down as he yelped. "You! You're coming to visit Kaede with me tomorrow. And don't claim you have previous engagements, I've looked at your calendar." I let the chair spring upright again and hopped up on the desk, ignoring his offended glare. "She really wants to see you, and I have no presents for her birthday. Maybe I can snag something at the general store, while you distract her with your pretty face and fake smiles, and ma can whip up enough food to fill all of us. Oh, and don't let nii-san get to you; he misses me, the stubborn bastard. Mostly because I drink with him."

Bunny stared at me for a second, perplexed. "Why are you so cheerful today?"

I laughed and ruffled his hair, too fast for him to block me, and slid off the desk again. "I dunno, I actually slept well last night? I'm not a psychiatrist, Bunny." I tried not to sound affectionate as I said his name, but I'm just so HAPPY, and I don't know why. But I can't help loving life, right now, at this moment; everything is perfect. I had a nice rousing fight yesterday, I only drank a third of what I normally do so I don't have a hangover, my daughter is excited to see me, and everything is right with the world.

I scared pretty much everyone because I was actually smiling and laughing, not as often as I would've if we hadn't been rivals and if I didn't hate all of them, but enough for it to be an abnormal occurrence. Bunny was the only one who played along and let me get hyped up over nothing, and even let me blow up at him over tiny things because our way of having fun is getting pissed off at each other. I think. I just know it was easier to relax after shouting at him and insulting his mother, and I know he was happy to insult mine in turn.

He doesn't hurt me anymore. We don't hurt each other. I miss sharing secrets with Benny, but exploiting weaknesses with Bunny is just as satisfying.

Of course, when not around other people, we weren't "mean". We laughed at Nate and Tony behind their backs, I gossiped about Tony and swore Bunny to secrecy, we speculated what Keith did with his free-time besides walk his dog, we talked about goats and I scolded him for being afraid of them, and for the first time in a long while, I… felt… happy.

I would almost call it bliss, except for the fact that I was aware of everything. I was aware the others were alarmed. I was aware this was strange of me. I was aware of the way the corners of Bunny's mouth turned up the more I laughed. By the end of the day, I'd almost used up my eagerness and energy, except for a little pocket that I was storing for tomorrow. I barely noticed how, um, personal Bunny's smiles were. I hadn't seen him look at anyone like that since he got a crush on one of the prettier journalists. At the time, I didn't notice.

When I got home, I threw myself down on the couch, snatched up the TV remote, and turned on said TV, to unexpectedly be confronted with the latest episode of HeroTV; I couldn't suppress a grin, seeing Tony get his ass handed to him on a silver platter by a woman with some intensely frightening hair (think Medusa standards). The camera panned over when she was finally caught to catch me mid-guffaw, pointing to Tony and holding my stomach as he shouted at me. Bunny was standing nearby, and was watching me with a weird look on his face. My grin dissipated. That expression was partly surprise and partly… no, that couldn't be admiration. It wasn't even straightforward admiring, like how I felt towards Mr. Legend. It was a strange new breed, that looked excited and surprised and warm. Warm in a disconcerting way.

I turned off the TV, tucked my hands behind my head, and stared at the ceiling until I got too hungry to think. I ate dinner and went to bed.

~~~\0/~~~

"_Make a wish, kitten."_

_The candle flames flicker temptingly. I cross my arms tightly across my chest and slide down in my seat, pouting._

"_Moo-ooom, I'm not a little kid!" I whine, refusing to look anyone in the eye. "I don't wanna!"_

"_Well, I want to!" nii-san cries, and shoves me half off the chair to blow out the candles for me. "I wish I had a different little brother! Mom, can we trade him in at the orphanage so he can't break my baseball bat again?"_

_My cheeks burn as I shove him back. "It's not my fault! It just happened!"_

"_Liar. You did it on purpose!"_

"_Muramasa, leave your brother alone," ma snaps, but she sounds tired. She leans down and kisses my cheek. "What do you wish for, kitten?"_

_My lip trembles, the burning in my cheeks gets worse; I don't want to say it, but I do, almost inaudibly. "I don't want to be a NEXT anymore."_

~~~\0/~~~

I woke up to a soggy pillow and stuck-together eyes. My seventh birthday; the magic day when I became a kid instead of a baby. I remember…

My morning routine is so engrained that I did it all without thought, although I accidentally put Neosporin on my toothbrush instead of Crest. Shaving went well, at least. Where's all my happiness? Where's all the laughing, all the smiling? At the end of the day, my face had hurt from being so energetic. Now I felt kind of… empty.

I dressed, packed a small bag, and called Bunny, forcing myself to be cheerful.

"_Kotetsu," _he said immediately, when he picked up.

I grinned. "G'morning to you too, Bunny. Ready to head out into the wilderness and meet my family on their hometurf?"

"_If you are. Are you giving me a ride, or can I drive myself so I can escape quickly?"_

He sounds just as happy as me, and almost as eager. No time to think on that; I'm just glad he's not surly. I didn't know why, but I swiped Jane's ashes off the mantelpiece and tucked it in my bag between the socks and the shirts, carefully so she wouldn't jostle too much. "Eh. I was thinking of just taking the noon train, so we can just walk. Unless you really want to be seen in a car as ugly as mine." God, why is it so easy to joke with him like this?

A quick laugh. _"No, no, I'll walk. It's been a while; I could do with a bit of fresh air."_

I snorted. "Yeah, because car exhaust and smoke counts as fresh air. You're city-bred, aren't you?"

"_Do you really need me to answer that?"_

"Not really. At noon then."

"_At noon. See ya."_

I grinned as I hung up. Damn it, there is something wrong with how easy it is for him to put me in a good mood. He's inhuman. He's… _nice_, when he isn't being an idiot. I forgot he could do that. Tricksy bastard.

Morning in Sternbild is the same as evening in Sternbild; too much traffic, too many people, and pickpockets trying to steal my underwear. I almost laughed when the first one tried to get away with my wallet and I tripped him. He was very bad, and his face was bright red when I helped him up again. He didn't get anything from me. The second guy got my bag, but I tackled him and he broke his nose on the sidewalk. Jane's jar was safe, and for some reason, that was the foremost thing in my mind; if I left her alone or broke her, she might try to kill me again.

Superstitious idiot, remember?

Idiocy set aside, I got to the station way before noon and grabbed a few hotdogs from a nearby vendor. The waiting is always the worst part; I called ma to warn her about Bunny, but she didn't pick up. I tried nii-san, but he just said _"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell her," _in a vague, absentminded voice. I finished my food and stared at the clock and tried not to think too much.

Is Bunny gonna be here on time? Of course he will be; he's Bunny, he's on the verge of being OCD no matter what situation you put him in. Did I give him the right platform? Yes, yesterday he asked and I answered. Is he going to skip because he doesn't like my family? That will hurt, but I wouldn't be too surprised. He likes to say nothing and quietly back away. I knew that two years ago, I know it now.

Strange… two years ago he was the popular kid in school, had perfect grades, won all kinds of awards, and yet he was so lonely he had to talk to a stranger, an old guy, and called him his friend. Now, he's challenging the Hero King, is probably the most successful hero in history, is fawned over by everyone, and is still so lonely he has to go to the only person who doesn't care about that just to have a normal conversation/argument.

And I still don't care. He's Bunny, I know him, who he is; why should I care what his status in society as a whole is?

Fuck it.

I do care.

I rubbed my face with both hands to try and wipe off the bad feelings that were coming from the pit of my stomach. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to have a brain. He's got a pretty face, good manners, is "cool", has a huge fanbase, is rolling in the dough, has a famous uncle, has famous PARENTS, for gods' sakes… What have I got? A daughter? No, she's in love with HIM. A mother? She's turning away, because I'm not a baby, I can take care of myself (no I can't). A sibling? He doesn't care, I'm just a little brother. Friends? No… my students don't count, the fighters don't count, Mary is a drinking-buddy, not a friend, Tony isn't… oh, fuck, I just ruined my entire day. Bunny, where are you? I need to be angry at something. Anything.

"Hey, Kotetsu. Are you okay?"

I wanted to scream in his face. I wanted to blow up. I wanted to shout at him, tell him exactly how I feel about everything in the universe. I wanted to hit him until he bled.

I looked up and grinned. "'Bout time, rabbit. I thought you were ditching us."

He grinned back. "Now, why would I ditch meeting my biggest fan? I'm allowed to call her that, right?"

"Does it look like I give a damn?" I put my hands behind my head and leaned back, stretching my legs. "Just don't let nii-san go off on you. He's worse than me sometimes."

"I'm shaking in my boots." He sat next to me, on the opposite side of my bag. "Did you even bother to shower today?"

"For twenty minutes, I'll have you know," I scolded, nudging his shoulder with my elbow. "What about you? Did you get your hair cut yesterday and I didn't notice, or is it special for today?"

He combed his fingers through his hair nervously. It did look several inches shorter, but I couldn't tell if it looked good or not. "Er… I got a trim this morning. Thought I needed a change."

"Bullshit. You wanted a disguise. That's why you traded out your jacket too, right?"

He grinned again. "Didn't think you'd notice. Nobody else has."

"Yeah, well, I'm used to you by now. Little changes mean big ones up ahead. Are you gonna suddenly whip up a girlfriend out of thin air? Kaede would kill me if you did."

"Eh. I don't really need a girlfriend," he admitted with a shrug. "They always seem slightly useless. Not to slight anyone in a relationship, but I've never seen the point of dating."

"You date to find your soulmate," I told him, frowning a little. But no I have to stay happy for now. Be happy be happy be happy. "I dated at least three girls before I got married. And I know there are people my age who've dated ten, twenty people and still aren't happy. It's like testing the waters; you find someone you like, body AND mind," I stressed, and he nodded obediently, like a kid in school, "And you ask them out. Take 'em to a movie or something. Out to dinner. To the arcade. Slightly less classy than a movie, but more fun. Didn't you date a girl when you were still in school?"

He shook his head. His cheeks started turning pink. "Er… no. I just said that so you wouldn't think I was a prude or anything."

"Bunny, you idiot!" I slapped him upside the head, and he yelped. "Lying just to seem cool is the lowest thing you can do! That's like Blue Rose using autotune instead of having talent. If you bring that kind of attitude onboard, I will personally throw you out the window!"

He stared at me, then laughed. "Alright, fair is fair. I apologize for being an idiot."

"Good," I grumped, and tried to not to be too pleased.

We got a compartment all to our own, and I got to stretch out on one side as he curled up with his laptop on the other. Eventually, I fell asleep. I wasn't tired, it was just… First off, trains are hypnotic. Second, Bunny's typing is quick and soft, so I can hardly tell he's writing at all. Third, I felt safer there than anywhere else. We were leaving things behind, but hadn't quite gotten to where we were going; it was that no-space, that moment in time that never ends until it does, that stretch of earth that flies by even as it creeps, the place where there is no place at all, no point of rest, no destination. We were traveling, and that made me feel safe. I'm in no-man's land. I can't be hurt or caught unawares if I keep moving. And besides, Bunny's here. And Jane. And the memory of home.

~~~\0/~~~

"Do you believe in guardian angels?"

Bunny looked up and blinked, like he was coming out of deep fog. "What?"

I realized that had been my question. "Do you believe in guardian angels?"

He just stared for a minute. His face got red, and he nodded. What, was he embarrassed? No… I was grinning stupidly at nothing, and right now, that nothing was right where Bunny's face was. "Um. I suppose. Why?"

"Do you think it's possible to have more than one?" I surprised myself by wanting to actually know his answer. And I was surprised I had asked it. Do _I_ believe in angels?

"I don't know," he answered, sounding almost automatic. "I'm sure some people think so. Again, why?"

"No reason," I mumbled, my eyes closing again already. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"You."

Why had I said that? Had I been thinking about him? I don't know. I pulled my hat further down to hide my eyes, still feeling a bit sluggish and not awake. We're in the no-man's land; everything can happen, and nothing. Angels exist in the time that goes too fast and too slow.

I didn't have to look at him to see his face reddening further. "Um. Wh-what'd you say?"

"I said I was thinking about you." I still sounded mumbly and tired, but I didn't want to wake up enough to fix it. "Well, actually, it started with me wondering about death. Y'know, what comes after and how you can tell when it's time, that kind of stuff." I'm making this shit up, but please don't call me out on it. "That led to guardian angels. And I was thinking… if you can have one, what's to stop them from giving you another one too? I know I have Tomoe… maybe you have your parents. And then I thought about Jane, and then I just suddenly thought about you." Again, I'm lying. "Like, can angels take on human forms and all." Oh god what am I saying. "'Cause… well, I dunno." Come on, come on, fall asleep again, Kotetsu, you bastard.

"How much did you drink today?"

"Not much. None."

"You didn't drink ANYTHING?"

"Yeah…" I yawned and turned over on my side, wriggling further into the back of the seat. Oops; didn't mean to turn towards him. Oh well. I made a grumpy sleepy sound and buried my face in the crook of my arm.

There was an awkward silence, but before he could break it, I fell asleep again.

~~~\0/~~~

"Oy. You didn't say HE'D be here too," nii-san objected, glaring at me as I stumbled off the train. "Ma's gonna be angry."

"I DID tell you," I grumbled, though it came out a bit mush-mouthed. "You didn't listen. Anyway, he's here, so can we go now?"

After one more glare, nii-san led the way to his van, me stumbling occasionally and Bunny walking quietly. I wondered uneasily, and a little fuzzily, what he could be plotting. When we reached the van, I peered at the cab and saw it wouldn't fit all three of us. "Um. Nii-san, where…"

He flung open the back and pointed imperiously. "Both of you get to ride in the back. I've got loose cargo, and we won't all fit up front. Oh, and you," he added, pointing to Bunny, "Keep him out of the crates. Even if he is hung-over."

"I'm not hung-over!" I objected, "I'm tired, that's different. I didn't sleep good last night." Lies, lies, why am I lying so much? Because it's easier to lie. How do I explain why the train felt safe? How can I understand my own thoughts about my strange conversation with Bunny? I crawled in the back without any more whining and flopped on the floor, propping myself up on a crate of wine bottles. I kept my bag on my lap, not just to keep it from rolling around, but also in preparation for another nap. Bunny perched nervously on a box of Budweiser and flinched as nii-san shut the door and locked it.

I slid down on my side and curled up with my bag under my head. "Hey. Bunny."

He glanced down at me. "What?"

"Don't worry." I grinned at his quick glare. "I've ridden back here before. He doesn't drive like a maniac."

"Unlike some people I know," he muttered, nudging my hip with his toe. I considered pulling him off his seat, but instead I just stuck my tongue out at him. It's not pitch black, but it's close, and he's afraid of the dark. Afraid of the dark, and of fire. I know because he told me.

I reached out on impulse and started fidgeting with his shoelaces.


End file.
